Art is Useless as the beautiful view we can't consume;
As the dandelion feathers gliding through
the rapiers of time;
Art is Useless because it shakes us with our own muse;
And because it lets us escape
(otherwise, we'd be sane and paralyzed)
Art is Useless because we can't build houses there;
As because it moves with us -- in us -- without any signs;
And because it's uncontrollable -- with thoughts or without;
(it's an unaddable totality without any added meanings to it)
(On every scene we see in our progressive dream;
We shall capture it and direct the palanquin of mother nature
To the red nectar that slips before our very eyes.
We don't have to fight for it -- our chambers will take it
Almost masochistic for it.)
