Art Alone (Poetry)

If I could live on art alone
I’d give up food and drink
and be a spirit thin and drawn
indelible as ink.

I’d sit inside a hermit’s shell
and listen to the sea
spill its stories to the stones
write new mythologies.

I’d count the stars that never were
make friends with those long-dead
cross waters that no sailor knew
stretched fathomless ahead.

If I could split my spirit out
leave anchor bones behind
I’d print a sunset as a map
for someone else to find.