Wednesday, July 01, 2009

To manufacture hunger you need
time and a stick and at the end
dangling like a fish from thread
a carrot. And the carrot withered
with a bitter beard. Hunger comes
when you would beat with the stick
your sister for half that old-man
carrot. The other half, the thread,
the stick, your own hand holding
its famine-machine a foot beyond
the other: these we call art.

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