This is art because I say it is.
I go around with a frame—
And where I stop, art and life are the same.
You’re in my poem!
You’re in my film!
Reality and me. We both control you the same.
The minute this little bell chimes,
I want you to accept technology,
I want you to read the New York Times.
If my photo of you happens to be you,
It’s the same as if I took a photograph of a shoe.
I recommend you fight back.
Don’t let me do this. Even if you need to stab me in the back.
This is religion because I say it is.
Authority itself—my decision—
Is all. Who needs beauty or precision?
I say it is so—so it is so.
Freedom—to not know, or not go—
Confounds us. Authority itself relieves us of so much,
Authority, itself, becomes bliss.
This poetry is poetry because I say it is.
Soon it is not just the saying it. It is.
I stop in front of you, and hold up my frame.
You can no longer enjoy your breathing—
Since the meditation master gave it a name.