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?


Wikipedia Poem, No. 325


“Where ever I go to claim / my flesh, there are entrances / of spirit. And even its comforts / are hideous uses I strain / to understand.” Amiri Baraka


fraud and but everything like wordlessness
imm not worse — less income and his rallies
themselves come depending to longishness

“People are going to march on the capitols.”

like that he might now
the new york times shooting
high above eighth avenue on november

“If push comes to shove she has to go
by any means necessary, it will be done.”

eight from the top of her pussy
caught there that if she done into a riot
concerns a many neighborhood

“It’s not what I’m going to do, but
I’m scared that the country is going to go into a riot.”

goes not what her husband didn’t say
but shoulda said that if the crows
never settle over the crowds imma be still

“Unfortunately, I’m not a man of vigilante violence.
But I do think there will be a large amount of people that are terribly upset
and may take matters into their own hands.”

he take matters into pointed politics you
know some lose their face inside uninformation
rigging the ballot be who owns a handslide

“Sometimes reformation comes through bloodshed.”

you go inton at thers
as there themself
imma bible christ

Wikipedia Poem, No. 139


welcome to new products
you have daved us that’s 
what we really want here

more than most we guess 
what considerate permission 
from the bobby parade? welcome 

kind riffs of the news to the new 
today will be super bright 

should we eat for love and country 
to hell as written by a horn seductive
clintonian permission sartre cum 
wandering eye star of them whomever 

laid stuff they led tripled saxophone lives
many fans fast for its title from tilt

Wikipedia Poem, No. 96

“I said once I said perhaps it is true that what makes poetry possible is a small country. Big countries cannot really make poetry because they do not cannot all when they say the same thing feel as they do. By this I mean. All this I mean.” —Gertrude Stein, Geographical History of America


         the buttons windows 
       in the play
with the ward 
down down down down 
          to accessory
this code is heir
voices will 
have 30 lives 
      to a door
          extra second drift kill 
a minute begins 
which is 
frames in 
is unit of the code 

         up to 

in routineshaft the character options the end 
the code entering the game
     of noise 

down down down 
       with extras lives

the character
         into a 
       pipe acting as unlockable invasion
        refiling the 
          from bottom for substituting the code
broken sing then rising 
        lives full of occult 
      of the special charm 
      gun to the page will 
the hard and 
in the code recites 
a pause menu of a 
       stereoscopic first enabling
       the frame in 8-bits damages 
play and 
flesh & bloodline z-axis
      wars begin 
     up up up

      animation locked
goemon emerges as bee

a door unlockable
a dot-gulping 
sequence substitution 

crises: revolution ally mao


skeleton cash at 
       the present exhibition 
      you can sit & write of swords 
cutting the ghost station 
       you will be sound

     those were there bootlegging the 
      haunted fair 
        after downstreet 
your shop donkey-changed
ghost can 
         seam the workshop 
      the original 

miscellaneous craftsmanship there and holidays
to meeting with this ghost
        edo epitaph monster 
    for flyers 
locked in the pier-machine
      is also 
         not afternoon

skeleton quotient
motif hair we have all lists
   by the august 
frequently asked 
        a small 
first venue in the heart of shenzhen 
ghost  only during also garbled 
shoppu monstery

    about this much 
as fans I 
am a waiting district network 
      named the print plater 
art photos specter emma exhibitions 
      of shenzhen edo epitaph 
of the japanese sword we 
the exhibition from sewing 
to the 
hair amulets cash climbing e-store please 
      understand monsters and magic 
energy and shop because it 
      is from in the 
      can we will to look

   the museum 
        streets short stories 
of specter the for the emotion 

in that downstreet shop 
special openings 
     joint forward 
       diving of kappa 
      shop donkey chan demonium 
          by that exhibition 
the haunted yu darkseed 
paper circles spectacle debord
miyoshi of luncheon many times little 
mail and sell