George Grosz's 'metropolis',
1916-17
what death it is
reading today's paper
over the shoulder casual
on time lapsed street
night still sun struck
(not the one we know)
signs spill into
but it's not the day
it's all faceless, cadaverous
clowning
here – chew this cigar
eyes red but there are none
who needs a face these days
anyway?
answer is animals do
ghosts do too, mannequins
monsters all sorts
grab and unhand
a dog is luminous through
streets
all shine squarely
buildings are a tumble
colour's from elsewhere
you must believe that
it's jazz
umbrella is unhanded flight
and there's an every whichway
gone
in a tophat scrunch
lights must have changed
that's why!
inscriptions – English,
German, French
an American flag folds over
all the other ages are under
but you won't get to them
any more than hear a peep
why seek for bombs?
we're the explosion
I'm ready
lead me to the war
I whir with little cogs and
pulleys
I'm shoulder to the wheel
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