El Bee's notes on art

I'll never be my favorite  
and paint like Matisse  
my hooves track too much mud  
 
more likely I would arm-wrestle Pablo
in the back of a pub  
and see who's the heavier handed  
 
I would give in, call it a draw  
he would play Indiana Jones  
and plunder ancient artifacts  
spooking the silent museums  
 
I would stick around the pub  
painting mistakes  
 
Botticelli would be more be beautiful  
toothpick tempera'd on ostrich eggs  
and dropped of a cliff  
so Bjork could hear its sound  
 
let the poets bicker over  
the description to each piece  
 
and when the children  
rediscover the first arts  
whatever they call Isis  
will arrange back together  
the shards from the shattered oval  
form a phallus and arouse it  
 
the sky will arch ecstatic  
over the dawn  
on that day