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