BOOK: UNDERSTANDING CONTEMPORARY ART
Spiders a year!
Contemporary poetry
--
I always think of her
as (the) (an) unborn.
Who knew. (?)
Because the truth is, if you
want things to work out
for you in New York, then
you need to choose your
bitch bastard truthful face
and then just (fucking) stick
with it; and stick with
it, bigtime, (got it?).
Huh, what? What is
this!
New York! New York.
There’s street life, with all
kinds of people standing about
in the sunshine on the front
steps of the brownstones; chatting,
and watching people go by; all
these lots of people waiting for
something (or for nothing) to
happen; then to add to this
everyday mix the (true) story of
a young woman who worked
in weird high-fashion photography
and who liked to dress up
every other day in a completely
new look, and then behave and
speak and act very differently
depending on what she had
chosen to dress up as.
We could (just about) tell
it was her, even if it took
us a moment or two in
the street — or in the lobby
— to come to and realise that
she had put on yet another
new body again. But the
problem was that the geisha
might not be the bobby soxer
or the bondage queen or the
motorcycle gimp, or the anal
fister or maybe not anyone
of them at all.
