A Bohemian Truism

In youth, you worry about making art.
By middle age there’s no need to worry.
Surrounded by your unfinished paintings, unpublished poems,
and other evidence of a bohemianly exemplary existence,
you yourself are the work of art
—or at very least
a one-of-a-kind relic.

Photograph of Ed McCormack wearing a hat in his study
Ed McCormack
photo by Jeff Tocci

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