The Prince

Joan Miró

Joan Miró

Yes and No
The rules of art are written by the beholder.
Not the artist.
The artist offers the big bountiful Yes and it sounds like everything;
An orgasm and a death rattle.
A fart and a cri du coeur
Yes is a question. And a call to arms.
No is an amputation and a gelding.
No is nothing. A cul de sac in a tract development.
No severs the artery, bites the tongue, kills the party, aborts the fetus, scrapes the pallet, bombs the hospital of Yes.
Yes bounces.
No sinks. Forever.
Yes shines like the eyes of the eager.
No spray paints the monument.
No is a sledge hammer.
Yes is a fulcrum, the arrow and the bow.
No steals.
Yes borrows.
No leers while Yes smiles,
No says no to Yes.
Yes says yes to No.
Yes listens and No is deaf and dumb and never dreams.
Yes dreams all the time.
Yes takes the car out for a drive.
No has a head-on with a stranger.
No runs out of gas and Yes survives on fumes.
No gives bad directions.
Yes gets lost and doesn’t care.
Yes shoots and scores,
No sits on the bench.
Yes swallows.
No vomits.
Yes vomits too sometimes.
Yes has more fun than No.
Unless Yes needs a little No.
No is necessary, No is essential.
Yes is optional. Yes is Yesserific!
No is a dictator.
Yes is a prince.

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