Art Critic

Some of us are not meant to live

as other do, or so we imagine.

Casting cartoons of those whose poetries

we claim cliché (or, more often, unwritten)

These high and lonely destinies we dream

but do not believe in,

good populists that we are

dress our oligarchy as a lumberjack

 

In our sacred tomes, felling tree with a hearty T H W A C K

paper pamphlets preaching penitence

for your use of resources.

Pages remember unlike sunlit screens

The fragment of a sound or word

Back space

 

I am no more good than you

bad, I’m certain, in a different way— very true.

No doubt I will die a sainted atheist

buried in a river, radicalism destroyed

in a single deadline.           Dead lined in the ER

 

A movie that never ends (until it does, anticlimactic)

and keep you on your toes.

Reading Ginsberg who we have outgrown

and Baxter who died too young

Reviews

[Andromeda]

unique, chica! love