Spectrum Vivace

Charlotte Moorman and Nam-Jun Paik, "Art by Telephone", 1969.

Dźwigam w sobie ciężar przekleństwa

chrobotanie usterki pod powieką

asocjację martwego kanału.

Oczy emitują fluoryzujący blask

mimo świadomości katastrofy

wciąż wyrastają mi na języku krokusy.

Rzucam więc słowami jak kwiatami

w artystów wiszących na pręgierzach

Old Bull Lee

It would take me all night to tell about Old Bull Lee; let’s just say now, he was a teacher, and it may be said that he had every right to teach because he spent all his time learning; and the things he learned were what he considered to be and called “the facts of life,” which he learned, not only out of necessity but because he wanted to. He dragged his long, thin body around the entire United States and most of Europe and North Africa in his time, only to see what was going on…. there are pictures of him with the international cocaine set of the thirties — gangs with wild hair, leaning on one another, there are other pictures of him in a Panama hat, surveying the streets of Algiers….He was an exterminator in Chicago, a bartender in New York, a summons-server in Newark. In Paris he sat at cafe tables, watching the sullen French faces go by. In Athens he looked up from his ouzo at what he called the ugliest people in the world. In Istanbul he threaded his way through crowds of opium addicts and rug-sellers, looking for the facts. In Chicago he planned to hold up a Turkish bath, hesitated just for two minutes too long for a drink, and, wound up with two dollars and had to make a run for it. He did all these things merely for the experience….