an art to everything

there is an art to everything
within yourself
and out beyond the dead weed
ornamental lawns of life
unwanted field of impractical colours
when were you silent
in the death spectacle?
there is an art within the self
the sickle of sun decapitated mountains
before the rider was stalionless
with internal combustion
and beauty sank to both knees and picked
one strawberry before the slugs.