You have locked our art
in a dollar - paper cage,
sweet pyramid:
You've won.
But let us show our final trick,
let us get away.
We don't want your ashes,
Geometric Lord:
We don't want your traffic jams &
Melting ice!
We're inviting you,
Big Eye!
C'mon!
The hour is late,
But there's still time to sink:
under the Big Wave
our tears for the murder of art
will join the sky-blue vault
of the stars
in a joyless,
unwitnessed,
marriage.