MODERN ART IS DEAD
Everyone knows the world is ending, and
everyone knows we are over : irony rules
the stage, puppets as politicians, global
icecaps melting, and we're still meant
to agree the ends justify the means.
There's no care about anything : little
men who measure their squankums on
stage, fighting angels who shoot other
men in their driveways, black-Mexican
authority figures counting their drug
money on national TV. Who cares
then, for line and subterfuge, for
angle and glare? The color has
fallen from this lampshade.
I'm going to San Francisco, with
your daughter in tow - and she's
never coming back. Don't you worry
none; it's performance art and it's
done in the dark. It's all we do,
and it's all we've got.
Madcap modern art is dead.