Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Poem #290 of 365

"Our diaspora done died," quipped
a sculptor into his martini.

"And i beg to differ,"
piped up a classically-trained
singer with business cards:

"Just because we have lost
our critical habitat
and artist anchor-spaces,
ain't gotta mean
that we don't exist,
dried up and desiccated
as locust skins."

"Well," the martini-ing
sculptor revs up his
rejoinder, "we can
still meet up at
Central Market,
over asparagus and
bock beers and, and, uh--
we're on each other's
myspaces constantly
that count for something?"

The vocalist erupts in
impatient trills, her satin-
clad arms akimbo:
"i don't want another
fuckin' social space
for artists to conveniently
convene, cavort, and
crescendo in chords
of frustration, bitterness,
and alcohol alleviation."

"i WANT solid, stable,
sea-worthy locales
for artistic production
and presentation."

"i NEED inexpensive
studio space and gallery
access. i NEED low-rent
performance venues and
rehearsal rooms. i CLAMOR
for non-patronizing local
press people who give a
shit about what i produce
and know how to describe
and discuss it. i CLAMOR
for a community of arts
patrons who will demand
that publicly-funded art
spaces be used for art
exhibits and shows rather
than weddings and alumnae
reunion mixers."

"How can you not want that,
how can you just keep
standing there, drunker
by the minute, relenting
and consenting, as your
city gives way to bulldozers
creeping up your domain?"

She sipped, finally, after her
dose of diatribe, and he
strode away quickly, soon
to forget the points of
her passionate pronouncement.

Minutes later, she saw him,
shaping cheese cubes
into sculpture, leaving
them atop the emptied
beer keg in hopes that
some drunk scenester
would happen upon his
impromptu creation
and perhaps
greet and high-five him
before offering
computer coordinates
for future myspacing
til kingdom come.

[Sculptor and singer are fictitious characters for this narrative poem. Any similarity to actual, existing artists
is purely coincidental.]

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

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