I was about to write that I wandered down to watch Len Lye's Water Whirler at Frank Kitts last night (which ws quite lovely) but was instead remided of the only poem I know by heart. I think it's by Spike Milligan:
I wandered lonely as a cloud,
that floats aloft o'er dale and hills
When all at once I came across
my dog being sick on the daffodils.
There. Isn't that much more interesting than some lengthy pseudo-intellectual rant about the values of kinetic art?
Actually, I think there may be a parallel. I may have just stumbled upon the topic of my thesis. Hurrah!