Wikipedia Poem, No. 882

it’s about time for the art market to be subject to regulation à la the sec

for art’s part
of the world
because otherwise we would
because otherwise
thee becauses the becausing world

rauschenberg’s dilemma: what to do with this angora goat

art’s about time
its an angora goat
she retains that
to rebuff historical value
naf naf naf

she retains these things as a means of escape a way out of her images of the world because otherwise we would stay there forever fixed like the fly waiting for its annihilation

mechanisms of proven
porcelain sculpture fait d’hiver
fixed like this part of historical value
martyrs angora goat
she retains the virgin

i ate some of that
the art’s part
a me now

porcelain sculpture
fait d’hiver which is porcelain
sculpture for french fashion brand major
museums the fly waits
for contemporary nothing

a place with a scope lying somewhere between grassroots alternative spaces for contemporary art and major museums that show only artists of proven historical value

for the artists of proven historical value
martyrs annihilation a bank holiday
of his bank out time for its annihilation
i ate some escape
a way of these porcelain scriptures fait d’hiver

martyrs and warriors of last summer’s coup

which is porcelain
fait d’hiver which is sculpture for thieves
we world among because otherwise we fashion
major museums art
about time for its annihilation

no artwork nothing-day of the virgin a bank holiday took the plates

out of the virgin a bank
out of time for the fly
waiting for someone to love last summer
a coup no artwork nothing some
the virgin of the virgin à la the thing’s mechanism

framing mechanisms of things

of the virgin à la the fly
waiting for 1980
advertisements of the virgin world
because otherwise we fix
like a thing means to means

the most expensive living female

dilemma: what to make of gathered porcelain
alternative spaces forever against porcelain
fixed things the most expensive living female
jeff koons eats the angora goat
she retains the virgin à la one final bank holiday
virginity and banality frame the day

jeff koons has been found guilty of plagiarising a 1980s advertising campaign for french fashion brand naf naf to make his porcelain sculpture fait d’hiver which is part of his banality series


you must give your art away.


there’s one certain cure for what’s ailing the artist’s soul: give yr art away.

you are not a producer of consumer goods. nor consumed goods. you are a creature of good consumption. you produce to reduce. you will be dead soon. your art and culture and capital will be unremembered. an electromagnetic pulse will blenderize every last digit.

your arm swinging the ax is your art. swiftly. then it is gone. the ax evaporates. the desk chair split is pure energy now. your shoes have melted into snow.

fuck jeff koons and his pearlescent ballerinas, baubles and broaches advertised alongside condominiums and credit cards in glossy magazines pinned to a gerry’s high-culture chest. it’s nice to hoard dispassionate lucre into piles newly/impossibly wide and tall, but it’s not an indicator of value. neither yrs nor yr art’s value, frankly.

paint something anonymous and true and leave it at the backdoor of a bagel shop or a local library. lean in across the threshold of some beautiful stranger’s house and hang it without their permission. slide your poem on the rope of light that breaks through the clouds atop the eiffel tower  and connects to midtown manhattan, let it crash through the tibor de nagy and really fuck up everyone’s day.

write a sestina and tape it under the seat on a public bus. nail a haiku to a telephone pole or your mayor’s frontdoor. build the first weird bones of an exquisite corpse and mail it to an address selected by knife’s throw from the phone book.

you are not the asking price of yr handiwork, hardwork, nor convictions. conviction bends at the feet of capital.

capital has a funny way of helping one to forget who she is.

if you love what you do, they’ll buy you lunch and pay your phone bill. go busk in the park, clark.

you must go on long walks with yr dog and read poetry aloud. gesticulate wildly. madly, stop worrying about what you look like to the drive-by  commuter.

you ever wonder why you feel terrible every day?

koons has a fabrication team; koons tells the team to adjust the luster on his cancerous blob: his hands are clean, his muscles don’t ache, he is incredibly wealthy. to maximize profit, he has minimized his effort.

what he has going for him, however, is that he is an artist arting. that is undeniable. when you see the bronze, stainless steel and aluminum hand rip out of the asphalt beside the palais de tokyo, you know what you need to know. he is working in his $5,000 suit—kissing kings.

lust after lust after lust, do what you want precisely. make up words. invent colors.  read backwards. you mustn’t do what they tell you to.

is your art honest?