these depths before the deepest impulse floats
to
the surface and is legible:
the inennarable FUCK which appears
only after the eye has long
frequented more decorous instances!)
Theirs is a polypoid scheme - a structure
of self-immolating moilers
(like the pyramids and the cathedrals)
wreaked upon the carapace of
what pyramids and cathedrals we have ...
But for all the luscious integument,
a variorum of texture
any post-impressionist might covet,
is it meant to be seen?
The wall,
the filthy field, the gutted car engorged
with the spray-cans which have given their all
are unknown to view, closeted
from the eagerest archeologist
of our cities' decline and fall.
Only a fluke snapshot insists:
this was,
and my words, irresolute witness to
such performance. I used to think
graffiti meant nothing but insolence,
the mean and meager vandalism
which was all
ressentiment
could muster,
yet the wasted splendor of an empty
lot in east Los Angeles
redefines the state of the art: how much
of the world's making was never
intended for human eyes! Luxor, Lascaux,
sacred places where we learn we can change
our faith without changing gods (and
vice versa) . .. To which I add the image
of an unvisitable shrine
where obscure artisans have succeeded
