Once Upon An Art School Education

Once upon an art school education

I was imparted with the pricey platitude

that “beauty is in the eye

of the beholder”

and those that couldn’t see that

were blind

to which I offered

anyone who’d be holding their eyes

wouldn’t be doing much seeing

on their own part,

and garnered a backhanded

critique of my cleverness

from our fish-out-of-tartar sauce professor:

a MAD Magazine Royston Ellis

who catted and groovied

like his tenure depended on it

and dressed like a coffeehouse bongo bum

straight out of Peter Gunn

replete with Maynard Krebs goatee

and turtleneck that was all mock-tortoise.

Later I was broom-saddled

with the Wicked Witch of the Midwest;

a real cauldron stirrer

in a pointed tweed hat

who saw fit to criticize her meal tickets

for not coming to the table pre-prepared

and languished over praises

of her own fabrications—

acrylics of dead twigs

on blue mud backgrounds

in hand-sewn books

that couldn’t be read—

and proved that she

earned every inch of her ugly.

I was angry when I left,

Feeling cheated and abused,

But despite—or perhaps because of—

Their best efforts

It was a learning experience;

And wasn’t that what I had applied for
After all?