The artist as troublemaker
Chants fractured scripture
Over empty buckets,
Instructs us to step back.
Columns of water rise before us.
The curator grunts into a guard's ear.
Seepage appears, gives off
A fearful blast of odor, licks
The heels and very soles of our shoes.
Slowly it oozes forth, its liquid teeth
Consuming energy in tiny whirlpools,
Eddying currents across floors,
Up walls, between legs,
In the lines of our faces, our structures.
It dries and leaves a sticky residue.
We look at each other.
The authorities come to disperse us.
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