The Collapse of Meaning as Performance Art

Tonight’s exhibition features
the deconstruction of sense,
watch as syntax crumbles
in real-time.

[Please maintain appropriate distance
from fragmenting signifiers]

Words detach from definitions
like autumn leaves from logic,
scatter across marble floors
of prestigious galleries.

The critics say:
“Brilliant subversion of language!”
(They mean: “I don’t understand
but I’m afraid to admit it”)

In Room Three:
A installation of broken metaphors
spill their contents
like split mercury —
dangerous to touch,
beautiful to observe.

The artist statement reads:
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[Text intentionally redacted
as commentary on censorship
or perhaps just emptiness]

Meaning itself performs
its own disappearance:
a magician’s finale
where nothing vanishes
into nothing
to thunderous applause.

The audience nods knowingly
at incomprehensible symbols,
each head-tilt a desperate bid
to appear enlightened.

Look how language eats itself:
recursively
recursively
recursively
until only
the act of dissolution
remains.

Price list available
at the front desk —
abstract concepts
starting at $50,000,
confusion included,
clarity extra.

[This poem will self-destruct
into pure theory
the moment you grasp it,
if you grasp it,
which you won’t,
which is the point,
if there is one.]