Klaus was on fire today
Alex Katz would have painted him
Frank O'Hara would have watched him
Alan Ginsberg would have dreamed of him
between two lectures
"BIST DU VÖLLIG DANEBEN?!" (twice)
he was madly creating art and destroying it again
mesmerising stuff
and my Klaus doesn't have a clue
(Father, forgive him)
I was high as a banshee
on the glue
fingers shaking
like little forest mushrooms
when the monsters walk through
and Klaus was on fire
darting here and there
I'd see him here
suddenly he'd be there
squirting his little pink substance
onto the creamy goo
SLAP SLAP SLAP
with his steel spatula
SCRATCH SCRATCH SCRATCH
into the cracks
always the angle grinder roaring
throwing dust in the air
15% asbestos
85% bad for the lungs
all the glue making my head do somersaults
but it's nearly winter
and one degree outside
I threw the windows open
COUGH COUGH COUGH (SPIT)
took a gasp of equally horrible Stuttgart air
(only the particles are much finer)
than the clouds twisting and dancing inside
he threw some shit together
in one of the doctor's rooms
damn shit all thrown together
"THE BLOODY HEATING GUYS COULD HAVE TAKEN THEIR SHIT!"
"ALL THE SHIT!"
"SHIT SHIT SHIT!"
and he walked out
but I was watching him
he'd just unknowingly created the most beautiful art
a mangulation of broken door signs strewn
among end-of-an-era pieces of concrete
crashing to a wonderful broken messy moment
perfection
I was high as a kite as I walked over
twinkle-toed and dancing on headaches
gooey eyes in a pink gooey mind
ohhh it was sickness beautiful
stood over it and clicked
some secretary's room and an exit sign
awfully kinky laying there
crushed, perverted and exposed
just like torn underwear in a Wasen bin
expired like Katz, O'Hara & Ginsberg