The manifesto's written
the golden apple bitten
Dr Chomp Duchamp I a**ume
ease up an easel
take the weight off your balloons
Things may come and things may go
here in Art School nobody knows
all four walls we painted red
it was something Pete the Poet said
here in Art School coloured fables
find the teachers under the tables
I once was lost but now I'm found
being modern underground
things have come and things have gone
all lines to vanishing point and so on
Shirley's early I'm half dead
send the sculpture back to bed
don't worry about it
se don't worry about it
it's better here than staying home
where things are mainly monochrome
we love each other – ceramic faces
and we take lithographs in unlikely places
the roofs of cinemas
the deals of Aqaba
the bu*t of Churchill's cigar
we like fighting in the park
we like painting in the dark
hiding meanings under canvas
abstract model – in a canvas chair
she's holding on – as long as she dare