it's a good time to be punk

i am trying rather hard not to succumb to depression and ennui at the state of the world, the political, social and environmental instability for i wonder how can my art, any art, be equal to the troubles in the world

which sounds precious and a huge order that can't be consumated

i can't claim that art is equal to the task

i do proclaim that art, my art, our art, is utterly necessary for we are responsible for and to the state we live in

art might be the small gesture by one flawed mortal person but if it be an honest expression is more than enough for the tasks at hand

i call for an antipoetry a duchampian poetry that does not give a shit whether you call it high art or not

the world is coming apart, we are, in the language of that chinese curse, living in interesting times

however art recalls us to presence the luminous the eminent

i call for an art sans ego that works in the world shared by fellow creatures and ecosystems

i call for an art that says fuck you to authority and questions everything

i call for an art where the maker arrogates the responsibilities of creation while maintaining humility before for all living and non-living things

i call for an art in a world always dying

i call for an art that is principle to the beginning

i call for an art that knows it will fail in its tasks but fails them hopefully

i call upon art