Abstract Portal Zero

Mother scolds the hemp horse?
Why? It neighs in all
The wrong tones? Nay, not

So, the hemp horse whines
When it should whinny.
Tut-tut, tsk-tsk, tchick!

Giddy-up. Language,
Like fish glue, should be
Seen through, isinglass

You can roll right down
To shield you, shelter
From the weather, not

Calling attention
To itself. Words should
Be heard, not noticed.

When the painters paint
Abstractions, you’re left
To contemplate paint,

And how intriguing
Is paint as object
Of dried-up event?

You want to leap through
A trompe-l’oeil portal
To something you’d find

More interesting
Than your moment now.
Leap, then. Now’s the time.