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A Ladybug, 2 Feathers, and a Pencil Which is more real - a river lagoon with a little pier or the everyday amalgamated landscape of text inscribed on the land? The answer of course is nothing miraculous, as I am the ludicrous Sigmund Freud! Look for yourself - there are the concrete hippos, a particle-board book spread over the grass, the penis-boy, and the tree-angel. What more do you need of endings to be here? The answer, of course, is everything, as I am the significant Jacques Lacan, stretching my tongue over the pigeons like a gift. Let's go connecting things to abstract things, such as your lips to my lips, since I am the incongruous Larry Rivers, beckoning to my friends to raise up their voices and scare away the construction crew, for what is worse than having to improve on what is already okay? And the answer, to be sure, is trying to find your voice as though the voice weren't already in the okra and the concrete, and in our last supper, as I am both the inconstant Max Planck and the innumerable and absent General Washington, just driving around with nowhere to be and enough gas to get us to the other side of this river, which connects to that new idea of making a nation of ideas, which is so absurd it might just be kinda fun, wouldn't it? And the answer - as I am the concrete Madame Curie, a radiating thing among things driving into a world of things inestimable and lonely in their numbers, though respected among peers - is "of course," as sure as I am the respected Lord of Supplicants and Hazardous Materials and I give you beer and move among you and among the concrete habitants and dear ephemera, a long way from home, which is this day and its absence and my wondering if they have parrots here. And the answer, of course. As I am most certainly the most certain Werner Heisenberg!
by Brian Clements |