The Thin Line


On the 3rd of November 1986 5 brave Dadaist’s painted a white line in protest along the colourful side of the Berlin Wall, this is my Promeathean tribute to them, here’s to falling walls and raising spirits.


Over Weimer dusk is seduced by darkness,

it’s Wednesday, it’s June 26th, it’s 1984.

A striding crew-cut, wary of his own persona,

stops, and leans against cadaverous bricks

He rubs his head, feeling the comfort of the follicles resistance.

Anxiety, who had been shuffling hurriedly in front, returns to spark his last cigarette.

100 yards ahead, he spies a young man, Thomas O.

Taking the sun from the sunset,

And stirring it into his paint pot.

Goethe’s Promethean agitator.

Inhales the colour.

Tight black jeans, loose red jumper. flecked with yellow all over.

Holding his dripping brush aloft like a torch.

Taunting the paranoids.

He anoints an ashen façade

“Turn the state into cucumber salad” it reads

As the final ‘T’ is finished with a vertical pull.

A yellow-gold globule splashes to the ground-up.

The crew-cut smiles.

He sees the light.

Men are not gods.

Thomas is arrested.

For gifting fire.

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For Gilberto


Written in response to the piece above, Sueño del unicornio, 1996, by Gilberto Aceves Navarro for an exhibition of his work at Galeria Hilario Galguera, Mexico City.


The tipsy light.

Upon this red,

Upon this white.


Like the relief of lovers,

Who’ve found,

Each other.

After the fire,

Of smothered profligacy.

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