THE WORLD ACCORDING TO ARP


                           Repelled

                                                     by
      
           the

                s l a u g h t e r h o u s e s

A R T                                                                      of
 collective                                                                                                              the
                   and                                                                        w o r l d  
                                anonymous                                                                                        
                                                                                                w a r
                          an                                                           
D                        
                                wanted                                                                                                        we
                We                                                              A                                               turned
                                                                                                                                              to
times                                                          D
            these                                J                                                                                           A R T
                                                       A                                                                                                                                                                          N                                                                           We
                                                           
                  of                                                                                             searched
                                                                                                                                                    for 
madness                                                                                       an
                 furious                                                                                              elementary
the                                                                                                  ART
                   
                   from                                                                                        we                              that
                                                                                                     thought                            
mankind                                                                                            would

                                                   Save
                                                                                                                                                                                               
                                                     
                                                                                                                                        
                                                                                                                                         Michael Small
November, 1992

Visual Poetry Exhibition, Wollongong, NSW, 1994

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

MEDLARS - SHE'S APPLES!

            In the rustic green garden of Catherine of Yarragon             Bobbled hundreds of frightful skulls of medlars woe-begone             Apples blackened with ague or rotting with plague on             To the wincing jaundiced quince, mug-ugly first cousin Yea, hundreds of death-masks dropping with aplomb             Like conkers, round brown faces, some bruised mauve to plum             Hollowed–out black eyes squinched neath nasal bar’s helm             Curving sepals summon knights from a distant Norman realm Mid a circuit of arthritic sticks, twiglets, thin limbs twisting r...
Read more

MORNING OVER FORT MADHOGARH

Clack, clack, clack breaks her village like beescomb, awakes the sun god, Surya.   Still treadling dark, young Hindu girl.   Dare she dream the kingfisher weave, silky azul?   Even the banyan tree stretches legs for parabolas of parakeets where peacocks mewl. And in dung-fed fields, orange saris gild mustard seeds.   After school, she buckles yet to her station.   Fluent in shuttle solely, tread imperceptible, deft.   Among stoops of elders rapt in village talk, card players hawking gustily, her father warps at gouging a wedge of droughty mud to fathom lake’s bed or burning rubbish and dead dog.   Pig’s work, eh?   Under kite’s eye, threading the brokered marriage day, his larki clacks blind duty.                                  ...
Read more

ADOLESCENT DESKAPE

crustating in class      vassal or vessel    dripfed by vultures war vets in gowns       boxed by backrest & knobbled desklid          iron stanchions stirruping lustings of legs             often id pore over that oaken scrawled slab                in veins of stephens blue black & ruby red                   Jackson Pollock   rorshached   bridget riley                      so pricked by the press of worsted weave                     ...
Read more