SECTION TEN
POETRY PAGE FIVE
sm
COLUMN FIFTY-FIVE, JANUARY 1, 2001
(Copyright © 2001 Al Aronowitz)
O WOW MAO
For
Andy Warhol (1928-1987)
"The
world outside
would be easier
to live in if we
were all machines.
It's nothing in
the end anyway.
It doesn't matter
what anyone does.
My work won't
last anyway.
I was
using
cheap paint."
Andy Warhol
"You
think
people
are
really
dumb
don't
you
Andy?"
Bob Colacello
Strange
glasses
a
silver
toupee
who
cares
what
critics
say
Liza and
Halston
love
the show
what
do
curators
know
Abstract
designs
dripping brushes
Franz
and
Jackson
are
old hat
true
art
is in
your
shopping
cart
Politics
is
such
a bore
Please,
ignore
the war
throw
out
the
new regime
bring
back
the factory
Hollywood
dream
Garbo
Paulette
champagne
and
Del Rio
caviar
and
furs
the holy
queer
trio
Polish
princes
Italian counts
makeup
satin
barons
in
pearls
lipstick
rouge
who
needs
girls
Boys
dressed
like
Judy
Lana
and May
crying
in
smoky
rooms
'bout
the man
who
got away
Recycle
those
vaginas
true
glamour
never
dies
beautiful
Edie
RIP
Miss
Jackie Curtis
and
Candy D
don't
pay
actors
they work
for
free
Making
films
is
so
much
fun
point
the camera
like
a gun
Kiss
shit
take
a
pill
watching
buildings
sleep
is
such
a
thrill
Drowning
in
the toilet
is
real
drama
why
get
hung up
on
Cinerama
Pop
flash
Polaroid
portraits
are
easy
cash
line 'em
up
it beats
making
Trash
Barbra
Ethel
oy
vay
getting
them
to pay
is
so
porous
these dames
are
too much
tsouris
Fairies
fairies
everywhere
painting
their
toenails
doing
your hair
splendid
in
tuxes
they got
such flair
fairies
fairies
everywhere
O
Wow
Mao
MM
stills
cans
and
boxes
Brillo
soup
O gee
jerks
pay
millions
for junk
that's
free
"I've
had
a
hard life.
People forget
I sold
fruit
from
a truck
to
pay
for college."
Dear
Diary:
I
work so
hard
to
be
a star
hopping
from party
to party
and
bar
mixing
paint
till
I faint
signing
autographs
like
Dirk Bogarde
"Maybe
I
should eat
more
yogurt."
The
limo
driver
is
so shy
it's
really nice
when
he catches
my eye
maybe
he saw
my
face
in some
column
I wonder
if
he has
a
problem
Piss
paintings
blow ups
of
cock
O God
how
they
shock
so what
they
lack
tact
peddle them
in
Paris
as
abstract
The
factory
kids
are
so smart
they
silkscreen
all
the art
Augusto
the porter
takes
esthetics
higher
finishing
prints
with my
hair dryer
The
receptionist
writes
the books
that
sell
so well
I
stay
at home
with
Archie
the pup
giving
advice:
"Just
make
it up."
The
CIA
is
all
around
I
duck
behind
my paintings
at
every
sound
Bobby was
shot
on TV
the
next day
Valerie
got
me
I
sat on
the floor
after
the hit
doubled
over
in
a
laughing fit
I
knew
the Agency
hired her
well
we
finally
made
the Enquirer
"Really,
what is
life
about?
You
get sick
and
die
That's it."
Bitch
moan
life is
one
groan
Filipino
nurse
O
what a
curse
it's like
Edie
put
the fix
on
you
the last
picture
you saw
was
the face
of
Min Chou
Haitian
junky
draw
real
funky
what
a funny
legacy
plastic heaven
acrylic hell
where
the spirits
ever dwell
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