Searching the museum without walls I bumped walls without a museum
floating through the coughing cloud New York
flushed down the gutter
stop now, catch it while it's here.

We're on our way to MOMA Oh! who did this one?
Little pictures blurred to the nine evenings poster hid before
a big red letter he's shooting WHAT?
Come on get out of here he's crazy
Hey kids
beautiful ain't it?

They know alright because they're alive:
Spray cans from auto paintshops
throwaway paint from junkyards
Abstractions and messages:
Stampdance I'm alive on the pavement
rip paper off to show blackpower
facts without explanations just what happened
and nobody looks

Echo of dark eyes of Puerto Rico children
a non environment

The white cymbal crashes in the corner of the sea of red
undersea forest floats in ribbons beside the ancient red-door house
. . . . walls to dance before

Wait said the wall to the paper when the wind ate the words
Stop weeps the hand of white paint pressed into glass
Halt for a now there never was no then
and when will not come. Ever. sitting on the bed of the Chelsea Hotel

for nothing

Push aside the brittle newspaper and broken whiskey bottle
and look, standing softly quietly repeating the absurd lines

love the love the love the
I am

Help me please, I'm dead