Take an object.
Do something to it.
Do something to it.
Leave yourself out of it.
Leave everyone out of it.
Take a manmade object.
Make it an animal.
Take an animal.
Make it a God.
Make something inanimate a God.
Just don’t use language
as a crutch. Stay on message:
it’s God and no human
is of concern to it.
Spooning? Leave it.
You don’t know the spoon well enough
to borrow its name. Drop and give the spoon
twenty thousand words: enough then, maybe,
if the spoon says so. If it speaks somehow.
Stay on message. God
is not a human concern. Do
something to it. Do something
to it. Leave.
Do something
to yourself. To yourself.
Then leave. You are of no
human concern. Art is the doing
of things to objects. Not a
spin cycle goes by
when I don’t remember that —
put paint on the canvas, the teapots,
the broken parts of me, the do something
else to it: remove it. Start at
washing. That’s an art, eh? A tough one.
You suck at it.
Take an object.
Do something.
Anything. Do something except
blurt about your whiny puke of a life.
Do something to it instead:
leave.
Dark Matter 