A Response to the Hunger Artist, Poem Example

A life consigned to the solitary experience of a life

That is therefore not a life.

A life consigned to the solitary experience of Creation.

A life consisting of that,

Which is most appropriate for you.

The futility of your work.

The futility of your movements.

The futility of your effort.

Yet you remain intent

Confident in the worth of your creation.

Like a God

Satisfied with His expansive work

So that on the seventh day

He rested.

But you are not a God.

For there was no rest for you on this seventh day.

There was no time for repose, for reflection, for satisfaction.

There rather remained the void of your solitude.

The emptiness of your stomach.

As a marker

Of what you conceived to be the ignorance

Of the existence

Of  your own creation.

Do you create,


For the world

Or for yourself?

All creation

«,Answers the artist»

Is for myself

And for the world.

It just so happens to be the case,

That the details of my work

Remain in hiding.

Like a segregated strand of nature

That has never been encountered.


If this strand of nature

Is to be encountered

Or if it will never be encountered

Is not of any concern.

It exists for itself

And for the world,

Whether the world sees it or not.«