This is your turf even
When the revolving door swings
And what are you doing here what’s this meeting about how can I make some money here?
Can I eat these snacks yeah
I’ve got some art for you to look at but
How do I make some money?
Should I sell drugs yeah?
Technically if you want to make money
Don’t become an artist
You’re adjacent figurative abstract
Who gets to call their practice Art and sell it
Who gets to make art in their home
studio studio home
studious If they have a home
Little white pellet
Something brown with
orange on the inside
What does this colour feel like on my tongue on my brush?
This blue hue refracting a hostile water colour
Keeping it together
Moving in a different moment after all
fall fall fall
Brown paper scrawl.
The invitations note
That one had a wide smile and the other bravado
An ecstatic celebration
Maybe people who sell drugs master the art
of surviving capitalism and
that’s worth a few crits too.
Do something real
Says the poster to the child.
Never mind the annals:
(surveillance control capture)
Testifying they won’t keep us safe
Despite macpherson and jones and smiley
Despite cherry and dawn and midnight
the matrix and a weeping community of grieving strangers
who rejoice whenever and where
Ever you return to rest
Everything comes with a kind of texture
It’s funny: car parks can be a kind of peaceful