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A Californian, a Scot, and a Shanghainese walk into a bar...
silent graffiti
sprawling words stretched out on cream pink walls
spattered from on high by the seagulls
that freewheeled and caw-cawed through aharsh pink sky
still graffiti
a motionless oasis
in violence, silent. calm,
but eagerly longing for discovery:
notice me!
here! I am out of place
no whitewashed walls
a monument TO MAN’S INGENUITY
no pyramids of the metropolis
only the loving work of boys
somewhere between testament and confession
they who posses nothing
but are the property of adults
spray themselves out on other adult property
this is mine! until the paint
is covered by another layer
dogs piss at a fire hydrant
silent graffiti
crackling ground under Nikes
and from
far off
the whirr of sirens.
1 comment:
The downside of tradition. But looking to the future instead of the past, how goes Hecuba?
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