On Duchamp’s Fountain
- Sep 17, 2021
- 1 min read
by Ariel N. Banayan
“To look at a thing is very different from seeing it”—Oscar Wilde
A plumber once tore a urinal Off the wall
Tilted it sideways Called it a dormant fountain Of porcelain and piss
To taunt others By silently splashing and saying —
Come and hydrate
This stale seed with your sight
Water touches it then vanishes inside
Come and see what will change besides
The bone white color
Its endless white drawing
The gaze inward like a black hole
Bending and swallowing any passing light
Until every wall you see
Is a mirror growing
Dull and pale and thin
From a transparent film of vision
And the eye is numbed like a word
Repeated by the mouth
And the eye no longer sees itself
As an eye
Ariel N. Banayan is an Iranian Jewish writer born and raised in Los Angeles. His writing has been featured in the Los Angeles Review of Books, Poetry Daily, the Foothill Journal, Guesthouse Lit, and elsewhere. He recently graduated from Chapman University’s dual MA/MFA degree program, where he now teaches classes on rhetoric and writing to first-year students.
