Pop Art Pack Rat

Pop Art Pack Rat

Pop Art

Grand Poohbah

Tsar sat high

in an exalted

tin-foiled office

among

prefab superstars

heroin heads

wannabes

hangers-on

one of his mega

zillion white wigs

shoots up

                tickles the

lashes of fizzled out

fallen angels

while he imitates

w/ forged artistic

oomph

Campbell soup cans

paints a first lady red

multiplies Marilyn

in silk-screen surprise

                while in secret

created chaotic clutter

in his humble abode

squirreling away              

                airplane menus

                unpaid invoices

                pizza dough

                porno pulp novels

                grocery fliers     

                                & stamps

                a mummified foot

Caroline Kennedy’s birthday

                                cake

                kitschy cookie jars

                in the shapes of

                                dogs     

                                pigs &

                                pandas

                dead insects &

invitations to events he

                did not attend

a skinny four story space             

                                stuffed

                crammed

                                610 boxes

heaving with stuff

His confession:

“I can’t throw anything out.”

**

I forgot that famed pop artist Andy Warhol was an over-zealous hoarder. I was reminded of this fact the other day skimming an article online. It stuck with me and as with many other things, served as food for a poem. It’s such an interesting morsel of his fascinating and multifarious life, certain he had hoarding down to a shambolic art-form despite the desire for a clean space. His stuff got the better of him. Another eccentricity he personified.

I wonder if it is a creative affliction? I have, for many years, been known to store away a great many things due to their sentimental value. The older I get, the more I am inclined to part with things, especially the collection of things that I truly don't need or that no longer bring me joy. I'm not as apt to hold on to every-single-thing anymore. But, there is a decent mountain of goodies that could still go heave-ho. I'm not necessarily a hoarder but I do often lean toward collecting the tokens that color my experiences or my history. I've stopping stashing the most important items and limit myself to adding to the rock wall instead. Wait, did I just totally contradict myself?!

In propinquity,

Nic