>"A young teacher explains to her children, ‘Modern Art is interested in Abstraction.’ And I cringe. And I am aware of my cringing."

>”Don’t make this about you
And your ‘Cartoons.’ Your inability
To function on human planes
Is what renders us untenable.”

X.

“No, no, no, I see all the same
Shapes and colors, I get it. I see
This Mickey Mouse head-shape and
That drunkish pigeon. And the …”

X.

“And the themes, the repeating squirls,
Floating around like lazy smoke. Who
Gives a fuck? The almost-straight big dick
Slashes, real repressed kind of masculine violence
Only a pansy like you could whimper
In public. For the whole world to see.”

X.

“Well, I don’t want it. Not one of them.
Doing a thing badly is a terrible disguise.
And now? This flaccid hand wringing
Bullshit.”

X.

“I don’t fucking care where you’re hanging.
Arguments require two people. Human
Planes, Sid.This. Here. You’re a fucking
Failure.”

(for Cy Twombly)

>poppies

>the definite bisection is imagined
and there are no poppies, signifying
nothing. indifferent men hush
then drain over obscured mouths

in this place
no decision

flesh tensing, as urgent lights spun
kicked off brick beside the sand
and oil, lacking comport
bisection still of nothing

in this place
no decision

many-whirled pink existence, they
must not be souls or even poppies
those of us who Are will not survive it
the closer they seem, the more real

in this place
no decision

and out toward the horizon, the hanged sky
under blockage, they are small, disassociated
real, though with no sun to create them, incongruous
those of us who Are (or Are still) refuse abstraction

in this place
no decision

out toward this minor & faraway bough
men lay across the road, without affect
and beside them all a pair prepares to break
his hand leaving her side, her hands leaving his

in this place
no decision

the field is ready for harvest
the fields are ready for harvest

(for Anseml Kiefer)