MEAT CULVERTS

 

now streaked 

& chipped

& perforated

by the strafe of our own worry

& scraped 

& gouged

& punctuated

by a policy mandated 

inferiority complex

we

meat culverts
be

resilient & tough & stripped

like tardigrades in trousers

masked up in the welfare queue 

ART MANDATE

art 
must stink of ourselves
stink of a week in a tent
with 
spilled booze fermenting and burst dreaming
crumbs and roaches and visitors
and 
cheap dealing
and the looming big moon and the low yellow ill moon
and
all the thick rain
that
ruined everything and hid the stars

art 
must be an unshaved wart
a beer fight
a reckless dangerous running night
caught in amber
in the
sickness and weakness and unapologetic guilt
of 
the bedridden and whining next day

art
must
be simple and readable by all
the
cutlery monkeys
eating 
kfc