In Gordon Parks's lost Octavia Butler photos Parks parks Butler
In Central Park & shoots her against the stars beginning to burn
Between the leaves & city some twilight evening in 1963.
She's a teen, but tall & nearly as quiet as the trees & policemen
Hovering over the scene. Parks shoots her leaning in the shade
Of the tallest tree, then clutching a hatchet at it, then transformed
Into a small black bird perched in its branches. No police dogs
Are on the attack. Rain makes the tree bark appear
To be sweating. The surface of everything cries over the black
Holes between capitalism & spirituality; the manholes between
Building & property. When asked about the banter shared
During their time together, Butler & Parks recalled different things.
If you see suffering's potential as art, is it art or suffering?
If you see life's potential as art, is it artful or artificial living?