This is a reflection on the days in LA.
Treat trash or fly,
breathe urine and comply
or serve gigantic piles
of tacky luxury, denominated “art.”
Plebeian anonymity
discouraged of proximity
to ready-made divinity
- your start.
The trinity of holy hassle
- to shock, disgust, and entertain -
will welcome me in concept-castle
in vain.
A precious bunch of trusting souls
is my entire fascination.
Potential might burn to coal.
Does desert heal from smog and tension?
Who dropped the wings are in the flick.
Protected with a war helmet,
I wonder at this Warhol’s trick
disguised in velvet.
