The brights! The sunlight glows
the things that are my freak:
what broken objects
can I now see?
May I bask in this warmth
of spectacle of starry infinite invitation
Or,
have I landed
in another box?
I swam to Aquarius today.
We spoke of our dead world
and our newbirthed hope
for art.
Yes, I said: I agree that material-availability
has made everyone the small-time artist.
The world of creation is hardly elitist anymore.
But the notion that everything has been done already
is gross,
it grosses me OUT;
it is revolting.
ART
can never cease.
Yes, she says, I agree that art
can never cease, but understand
the modern difficulty.
I understand that everything said is true.
I understand that brats and thugs have names.
I understand that society is boring and the
concrete middle class have nothing
in meaning except spare time.
To be louder and hard, we must create.
I don't care that Time is the filter.
I don't care that through the worlds Great Connection
it is harder to Be.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
There are times that manifesto's are spat in speech.
I think of the "hip"
and the beatific hip
and the glamour involved with history.
I explain to my consciousness, when
you're telling the story
you will be from another Time.
You will understand reasoning
for it slips from the present,
as the gift.
A thing that shone
shines brighter
from afar.
The world of art is by reflection.....
- Joy Rizzo