The Glass Onion
LOREM IPSUM DOLOR SIT AMET, CONSECTETUER ADIPISCING ELIT. MORBI COMMODO, IPSUM SED PHARETRA GRAVIDA, ORCI MAGNA RHONCUS NEQUE.
I told you about strawberry field,
the white cube cubed,
distanced yet brought into the present
you know the place where nothing is real,
the child’s fingers, the maisk in place,
lifted to reveal what should never be masked.
well here’s another place you can go,
a child’s fingers parted to catch what slips through the optic poet.
where everything flows,
where water turns back on itself and up into a hidden future.
looking through the bent backed tuplips,
flow structures flow, cables structure structure.
to see how the other half live,
lifted up and over the existing building to the sky terrace.
looking through a glass onion,
the optic coaster wraps as it unravels,
closing and opening simultaneously.
I told you about the walrus and me, man,
the pump station and the clever drift; the canvases of the city.
you know that we’re as close as can be,
man interweaving the architecture of the mask to unmask the original.
well heres another clue for you all
the tabula rasa pierced and probed; the props aid reality
.
the walrus was Paul
the cloud collapsed over the white canvas of the original
.
standing on the cast iron shore, yeah
a liquid serpent – the Miami art flicker plays the art
stock market.
Lady Madonna trying to make ends meet, yeah
ends meet in the two structures; result – the hole, the drop & splash art.
looking through a glass onion
a glass onion wrapping and unraveling leaving the space ‘agrape’
told you about the fool on the hill
savoy truffle punctuated by the optic journet: eyes washed clean
tell you man he living there still
rapid lectures on art across the eyes; the art market
stilled
well here’s another place you can be
white-out informational flicker tracing night-time into day
-time.
listen to me
beyond architecture as we know it : Miami seen through its own eyes.
fixing a hole in the ocean
splash art : the (minimal) drop in the asphalt re-launches the optic structure
trying to make a dove joint, yeah
points where the squinted mask touches the smear of art.
looking through a glass onion
inside/outside Miami’s white album.