Doesn’t it suck not to be
on the totem pole with the cool kids
instead ensnared in boring necessity?
Think ignored utility pole burdened with signals.
Think hungover surgeon whetting his scalpel.
Think boner put to better use. You see art now
from outside it – unlike your university days when
everything in the THC haze
blazed with profundity.
Now you are a planet pretending not to orbit
convinced you’re blazing your own trail through the galaxy.
But every sightseen thing is disappointing
every break from the routine
harder to stray from the expected.
I feel bad for you who are also we
whose profession and age have crimped
the senses’ extraordinary machinations
tirelessly flinging al-dente noodles at unfazed walls.
I used to have the best metaphors
and ways of hiding them you wouldn’t believe –
tainting dark caves with the light of day
sleeping bats would wince at
realizing they weren’t as blind as they thought.
I was sad enough to do good art –
to make futility worth my while –
while others thought correctly
what a waste! We celebrate it like a trapdoor
wandering its minefield
our burning offerings
Hatred has a meanwhile heyday
a staged buffet where trolls
launch pies and rotten tomatoes
at body positive versions
of Disney princesses.
These new names coming into the known
some ten or twenty years younger
ravish the internet with their words.
You don’t admit they’re good
but follow them for the same reason
Trump and Maddow follow each other
as if somebody were leading –
they’re doing something
in each other’s light