|Larry Goodell presenting "The Fool" in the Kiva at UNM Aluquerque, New Mexico, 1968|
Dada lives by plucking out a toilet
and parading it in the Louvre
next to the Venus of Badlands.
Dada dissolves the duende and
enters the blood of the poet
who ought to know better but never does
as he utters beauties to inspire painters
to make money off their paintings.
Dada is dead so must live on art
by destroying its critics and then wondering
were any of them good looking.
Being dead so long dada
sticks out on all fronts
and imposes itself on all movements
laughing at the hypocrisy of ego
and sticking its tongue out from
every subway poster.
Dada cannot be because being dead
it’s not heard of by any but a few
who pass their art courses
then go out to force people
to look at art as if it’s better
than "wall art," doodads for the happy couple
fighting in the next room.
Every publication depends on
the cremated remains of dada.
Every musical composition
is strained through dada’s ears
and sets people’s feet dancing
in drunken dives by the sea shore.
Every painting & sculpture
gets extruded from the backside of dada
before being praised by know-nothings
in the art world.
Every critic writing about
the post-modern marbles in
his empty brain
depends on being dead from dada’s
act of savage love.
Every general & admiral &
depends on dada’s rotting corpse
to give them life and vitality.
Dada lives by history’s denial
it can still be alive,
giving birth to absurdity, blood to hypocrisy,
meat & flesh to greed,
its bones to the drumming ego of the human race
carrying on vainly
as dada laughs its last laugh’s laugh.
larry goodell / placitas, new mexico / 29Dec2012
the photograph from the "Daily Lobo" is by Mel Buffington.