City pigeons make street art under Manchester Bridges.
Jackson Pollock is something organic.
It could be Mural 1950s, and look—here?
'A bubble-gum pavement' is this urban street art.
The pointillist canvas: does it mimic the universe?
And all that's still to come through there?
I love all kinds of art, but a dead carcass
Formaldehyde stretches that to the limit.
I'd rather see some burnt-out wreckage.
A car where no one got hurt or died.
I'd rather see pigeon excrement.
Then human, anatomist, or artist
Using someone's once-living flesh and bone,
I'd rather see bubble-gum pavements.
Then admire this art, new modernistic art of nothing at all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem