TRIPARTITE POST-CONCEPTUAL CONFESSION
I (A Lyrical Mini-Essay
On the Great Conceptual Voice)
Kenny’s greatest artistic achievement
Is to diffuse the fact
His greatest artistic achievement
Was to develop an elegant and beautiful
To back up the North American regime
Regardless of the truth content
Of its old or new sentences.
Developing this artistic executive voice
This very original voice
Is precisely the opposite conceptualism publicizes
Therefore the voice
Therefore the photos
Does not ask to be read or not
Doesn’t matter what it says
Is all about tonality.
The Voice “Itself”.
“Materiality”, the “Concept”.
II (Writing Conceptual Poetry After Adorno
If Enlightenment Is Concept Without Its Other
And the One Concept Ruling
This One Society
Therefore I Am Possessed
By The Conceptual Voice (too).
Poetry Is Not Its Other.
III (After the International Division of Poetic Labor)
After the exhaustion of style
Cool is the Conceptual.
The conceptual controls
Elegantly. The conceptual poet
Like a hyper-modern dandy
Looks at the psyche
With indeterminacy and apathy.
The colonial conceptual subject
Loves the look of the conceptual master.
The Colonial Conceptuality
Those who take decisions and follow them through
(THE REASONABLE RACE)
From those that barely scream
(THE NEW SLAVES)
And what is Chance? (My machine asks)
The two sides
Of the flipping Colonial Coin
Imagining living apart.
And because I know
The Conceptual Machine shapes
To lucidly speak
About its late delirium stage.
I will not write images fleeing capitalism.
I will not pretend I am more emotional
I will not design ego-based-confessions
As if the co-colonial super ego
did not pre-figured them.
I will not make myself believe experimentalism
Will save our communitarian ass.
Conceptualism is a demon now.
It will not be easy to get rid of it.
Decolonial Exorcism is just a movie clip.
But where is the laughter coming from?
The gaggling throat of the Dying Concept?
Or the ripped stomach of the insurgent body?
Struggling in our voice.
I confess, therefore, concepts still
Drive my desires
To live something other than Capital.
But poetry is not disorder this other.