CRACKED
MATERIALITY IS NOT WHAT IT’S CRACKED UP TO BE
I came upon a city of white ghostly porcelain people
2000strong at the corner of Avenue Rd. & Bloor today
An alchemical in-between a bit like Pompeii All are frozen
mid-bite mid-dance mid-romance Were they ever more
alive than now? Were you? Was I? The scent of their
regrets hangs above the room all ethereal gloom+doom
The Artist-Maker (it’s cool to call artists makers now +not
return their calls when they beseech you) sits at a work table
like a demented Goddess churning out people to fill cities beaches
+graves Today back in the real world they discovered a mass grave
in Iraq with all the men of the village buried in it (from 12 -56)
What of the women +girls? More wives for the emir of course
It seems relatively easy these days to build armies of women slaves
We hope against hope there are not copycat splinter groups While
on boats+planes bound for the West the radicalized look homeward
with misty eyes & wolflike grins
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Inspired by:
songanddancegirl 