the depicted recumbent lion with a human head
the thrilling unaesthetics of a poker-faced boredom and all the
aesthetics of car accidents… do you see the tragic beauty of
the portrait of marylin monroe after her suicide,
it is the winter season, in the Madness and Civilization
and one can see the gangster funerals, and fragile
mrs kennedy after jfk’s assassination
duchamp enigma haunts me – he
who renounced art to play chess instead,
the eternal sphinx looks perfectly,
it is hard to tell whether I am in a voyeuristic amnesia
or simply lost in a narcissist unconsciousness,
in this ship of fools
no one has an explanation,
and your beauty is crystallised
in the genealogy of a ghost three with two hundred years
and I don’t remember the eternal fear
this is this “just now” bottom of the tulip
…
we are just reviving something that is ancient,
but still transcending the birth of the
new projected light
in this whole L’Ordre des Choses
in this whole of organic and mechanical technolog,
this late cult of the sun