Dire Art Redux [dADa 18 pt h]
Godless FLOOPYhat aesthetics--Guernica.
The ground never
appears only flashes of
light--a bulb! A sword of--
snapped as it is lifted, the hand
seems to hold it,
is part of an
arm (army?) Clear?
Nothing is clear. Mayhem is
the hour of a
a poem entitled, unfinished...
the colors die like goldfish in the reliquary of the unimagined & sterile
carnage of our zeitgeist.
Move & the head falls
over. Sing or attempt to sing
& the one note
disturbs our daydreams,
disturbs the minotaur.
Find a quaint retreat in Majorca
& never return.
Find the bliss of Madrid prior to 1930
& mourn for us all.
Devote your life to art or philandering but never forget the flower woman
trapped like a dove in her own skull.
Cower in the art patron’s wine cellar & never get sober,
you’ll feel his angst like only a comradecan.
Once I would have ordered you to decide:
Decide! I’d say
You must decide!
You are Fascist! or You are a Loyalist!
But I can’t decide, I can’t decide!