(Untitled)

The world knows not my name but who I am,

And none of the humbleing and humbling greats

Will tell me this. Life lessons are sorrowful

Indoctrinations enough to put one’s knees

Down in the sand and tell them, don’t stand

Up, but acquire your dignity, and that is

Your life’s work. If you’ve worked selfie cameras

You will have witnessed doomscrolled grim faces

Printing themselves onto skin and bone masked

By their names, against the prodding of poets

Who doze on everything and do not forgive

Nor understand the procreation of our words.

Art does not improve, they say, and it’s true.

Perhaps language and life do, though, and in the end

Nothing you read takes you off the ground.

It buries you deeper but that is really

Only fair, many say; You will, even insidiously,

Love Good. Hunger will not unspeak you.

Dante will not send you to Heaven but

If your goodwill takes flight you make

A Paradise on Earth. This question

Amongst other truly important ones

Can only be rhetorical. Our brains are too large to

Grow wings, too selfish to truly want

And too eager to leave problems to children.

But we are good at thinking we defy physics

By flying without lift, and that’s why you

Should read a book, think about it and tell

Yourself and family you’ve spent some good time.

We’ve failed to provide Good enough.

If you think you can fly you may as well try

To bring some of it down to your Earth.


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