6021. I'VE GOT THE BUCKLE FOR THE BUCKLE

I'VE GOT THE HUCKLE 

FOR THE BUCKLE

(totally abstract)

Demonstrate the illumination factor by lighting

the lamp. We walk amidst the darkness as the dark

men vamp. The human factoid as a consensual fiction. 

Human society as a consensual fiction. If that is found

so, I say what of human reality as a consensual fiction?

Hold these packages for me : I am entering another realm,

and I need to find the key to this apartment. As at the School

of Visual Arts, on 23rd, there are so many confusing things :

the art-supply-store, the school-store, the school itself, and 

then all feeders who duplicate the services and try to feed off

the student-art crowd that congregates. Until nighttime, when all

they do is party, drink, party, screw, fuck, drink, play, amble and

party again. Then they walk east, and disappear into the river.

Sometimes I just feel off-kilter. I want to wear that school-cap

but cannot figure why. I have the off-centered idea of geometry

never being art : angles and planes and rigorous attention to

rational detail. Like the fellow in the white apron whose job 

it is (somehow) to re-fill the broken eggshell with its original

contents. A sliver of Life for the silvery man, indeed, that is.