
After an Excellent Workout
After an excellent workout, the creative side overwhelms—
An extended meditation on authenticity versus artifice, arguing that true beauty needs no manufactured enhancements—and positioning the speaker as "Art," a witness who sees and honors the real person beneath the surface.
This ambitious poem operates through a sustained pun on “Art”—as in artifice, artificial, artful, artist, and finally as a proper name the speaker claims for himself. The opening catalogues what a naturally beautiful woman doesn’t need: the physical trappings (makeup, high heels, push-up bras, pouty selfies) and the emotional substitutes (men who use, mirrors as lovers, “clinging substitute[s] for emotional credibility”). The poem then pivots to what she does need: beliefs as compass, purpose as path, goals as horizon—and crucially, “a believer, a companion who sees the real You.” The typographical play is central to meaning: art(ifice)** versus art, art(ificialities)** versus simply Art. When the speaker finally declares “Call me Art,” the wordplay completes itself—he becomes the antidote to the artificial, the one who honors “subtlety, nuance, respect, and intimacy.” The poem’s repetitive structure (ideas restated, refined, returned to) mirrors its themes of authenticity emerging through iteration. “Love is Art. And Art loves You” becomes both declaration and definition. It’s a manifesto dressed as a love poem—or perhaps a love poem that insists on being philosophical.
“Art(ificial)” is one of Plahm’s most conceptually ambitious poems, built around a typographical conceit that allows “Art” to mean multiple things simultaneously. The wordplay is genuinely clever: the parenthetical formatting (art(ifice), art(ificialities), art(ful), art(ist)) creates visual interest while reinforcing the poem’s thesis about what’s essential versus what’s added. The speaker’s self-identification as “Art” is a satisfying payoff to this extended pun. However, the poem’s ambition is also its challenge. At over 100 lines, it sometimes feels repetitive—ideas restated when they might be compressed, the same insights circled back to multiple times. The critique of selfie culture and “manufactured personas” risks feeling dated or obvious, though it’s delivered without condescension. The poem is at its strongest when it moves beyond critique to affirmation: “Art is a witness in word, expression, and deed” is a compact definition of what the poet aspires to be. The self-aware moment—”those may be simplistic observations, binary thinking”—shows Plahm’s characteristic willingness to question his own premises even as he asserts them. A poem with real ideas that could benefit from tighter editing.
What a naturally beautiful woman needs:
You may not need—
physical support:
makeup, lipstick, perfume
fancy clothes, high-heeled shoes
a push-up bra, a mini skirt
a hairdo of pomp
and circumstance
Pouty lips, poses in a mirror,
a camera in hand,
selfies of selfish reflection—
“I’m so important.”
A picture can say
so much more
than a manufactured persona.
Not art(ifice)
just art.
You may not need—
emotional support:
a cat, a dog
(Maybe they’re good for you.)
A man who uses you—
a clinging substitute
for emotional credibility—
never enough.
No mirror
as your lover.
There’s no meaning
in art(ificialities);
only the work
of creating meaning
from them.
You probably need—
a bible—
or your version of beliefs,
a believer,
a supporter,
a true to life companion.
You do need—
beliefs: a compass,
purpose: a path,
goals: a horizon,
a pursuit of a life
worth living,
staying true
to your morals
through the lost compass
of today’s immediacy
and superficiality.
As a poetic device,
those may be simplistic observations,
binary thinking,
but, what I do know is:
You’re beautiful
as you are—
not art(ifice),
but living art.
Call me Art—
One who honors
subtlety, nuance,
respect, and intimacy.
Art is a witness
in word, expression,
and deed.
I’ll stand with you,
a believer,
a companion
who sees the real You.
Art(ful) beauty
lives where love begins
and blossoms.
I’m proud
to be an art(ist).
Because Love is Art—
and Art loves You.
You’re beautiful
as you are
Not Art(ifice)
maybe just Art.
I will be there
for you.
You only need
a believer
for an authentic existence,
and a companion
who truly appreciates
the You.
Not Art(ifice)
Art
Is that my name?
Just call me…
Art—
Someone who sees and honors
the real You,
in subtlety, nuance,
respect, and intimacy.
Art is a witness
in words, expressions,
and deeds.
Not Art(ifice)
just simply
me—Art.
Art(ful) beauty lives
where love begins
and blossoms.
I’m proud
to be
an Art(ist).
Because Love
is Art.
And Art
Loves You.

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