Art & Poverty

Straight out of Brooklyn to the lower east side he sells postcards to Andy Warhol in a fancy Maddison Avenue restaurant
He’s got the wild line cartoonery pan African imagery chasing demons a wild epiphany
The rest is history the genius and the mystery

In a London squat a man dressed like a biscuit tin
A woman holes in her clothes work for the establishment as cultural heroes
Pedalling the same old lines
The ones about rebellion and the ever-changing times

There was a man who took photos of his family stale aired ketchup polaroid anarchy became a real somebody
With a rich patron and a gallery show, social realism a voyeur in vogue, no more beans on toast
Now he’s photographing the homeless in the local underpass they look indifferent unremarkable and they want paying too

But soon the project is abandoned the funding has dried up he returns to the day job teaching in a provincial college where he remains something of a reclusive celebrity

His finest work a distant memory

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