»Would you say that your (artistic) practice is political? If so, how would you describe its political dimension?«
In answer to the posed question (very simply): Yes.
The Lever
I spend hours as a gambler shovels coins
in whatever currency we keep
letting all our hours sleep
in the unbreakable brains of our machines.
When I pull the lever I know the lever.
I know each second before each second knows
me, but while I think this doubles me
I’m halved. When I pull
the lever I know the lever
pulls me; so I say the lever
has to do with love; because I want
to know you but know your being
makes me half-sad you’re wholly here,
half-happy. I’m here to collect matter
that will let us build a new life. Still;
as the advertisements know,
there’s nothing to it.
I ask for one more day, and it comes.
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This poem previously appeared in Five Dials.
