Prelude:
I am mostly appetite translated into art.
The pot is not a pot — it’s a mirror with hunger issues.
Between us lies the philosophy of leftovers.

I. The Economy of Oink

Value circulates in circles:
pig, pot, promise.
One gives, one holds, one hopes.
Ich bin Schwein und Bedürfnis,
ein rosa Gedanke mit metallischem Nachhall.
DADA counts nothing,
and therefore owns everything.

II. Still Life with Expectation

The pot waits.
I wait too.
Waiting becomes a duet in minor key.
Steam is memory rehearsing resurrection.
If sound had smell,
it would be soup.

III. Dialogue at the Edge of Meaning

Pot: I used to be full.
Pig: I used to be certain.
Pot: We both cool too fast.
Pig: And yet, we glow.
Silence nods in agreement,
seasoned with charcoal and irony.

IV. The Theology of Containment

Form defines need.
Hunger defines form.
Art defines neither—
it only documents the tremor before satisfaction.
My eyes reflect warmth I didn’t make,
my snout recognizes itself in the roundness of the pot.

Final Benediction

Nothing is truly empty.
Even absence stews.
DADA ladles meaning from the void
and spills half on purpose.
The pig sighs,
the pot gleams,
and the world smells faintly of maybe.