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William Powhida is an artist who makes fun of the art world.
I lie in bed with my personal Venus. She is of flesh and bone like me.
Across the river her voice sends shreds
torn from something gelid, all acute
angles though the surface of each. . .
It is nothing like a shark but the monochrome blanched off-white
of its long body is dumb like a shark’s nose and dead eyes and
it is turning a corner.
The Vessel is a structure that invites parody . . .
A report from the front in Brazil's current war over politics and culture.
I got screaming drunk at the KGB Spy Museum the other night. . . .