“weh unser gutter kaspar ist tot.” — Hans Arp
Hephaestus’s golden crutch-dolls
made a fetish of weakness.
The mirror leaned on a ladder that
leaned on a board that leaned on a wall.
He sued the artist for imitating his work:
The artist sued him for imitating nature.
A hybrid work: part dog’s ear,
part radio. Everything useful is ugly.
Her cannibalistic fantasy involved
the flesh of meat-purveyors.
The surrogate ate the frozen peas
frozen. Heat makes us human.
Her degree was in media ministry.
Her thesis: how to virtualize immortality.
The audience was moved by the love of
the dwarf-tenor and the morbidly obese soprano.
The puppeteer spoke through a swizzle,
“I shall be laughed at all over Osaka.”
A puppet with no action required
of him is called a master artist.
The gesturing statue had come to life.
The Jesus puppet was tied to his cross.
She gathered his limbs, beat her wings,
and brought him back to life.
When he places his right hand on his left breast,
we may safely assume that he is in love.