In Another Post-Communist Hotel
the moon is a grenade in the Polish landscape
setting against the coal-smudged windows
one toilet and one shower for twenty miners
the truth is something that is re-cast
an orphic revolution in the grayed-out buildings and boot-smeared shit
to become human is a continual inter-subjective project
art is non-instrumental communication in the darkness
sarcasm may be a condition of truth
Barbied culture: bitten into tin
beauty outpulls the numbness