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Susan Buck-Morss, Art in the Age of Technological Surveillance
setting out,
a scarlet flower
behind an ear,
into the wide
world into
banner-adorned cities
faking
permanent festivity

*

the road
turns an angle
like the dateline does
near Tuvalu

*

once, it’s said, anticipating promise,
they murmured
as they crossed,
‘Bush’ like
‘ boo schh boo schh ’
and
no reply
came
*

sprained westoxified
all-signed-up
for ‘NightTalker’,
( the wine is under
the table somewhere)
crying becomes
a critical criterion
(the flower
discarded )

*

the public sphere
is
newly perceptibly
losing memory

*

re mem ber Bam,
Arg-e Bam
ancient city of sand
and mud
collapsing in an earthquake,
the cultural heritage building
slipping subsiding,
consigning
any record
of the archaic ruin
to dust

*

the memory
is
ruined

*

who can accept
a given world,
who can
live in it ?