what a poem is supposed to be?
---
philistines mediating reality
a middle brow extravaganza
colored mousey

fancy religion

fortification
against tragedy
a war over abstractions?
---
wearing dolls cloths
made out of wood
axiomatic of surrender to the crowd
but never to the art?
---
consider that poetry
conforms to us
not the other way around
---
so much
for social constructivism
identify politics
and turning emotional hemophilia
into possession by ideology
---
the poet as flammable landscape
that no longer understands  
reality through the body
while herds of
theoretical institutionalists
and their slave company hoypaloy
adapt structures
of memory
and cant remember why
---
obsessive herds
word chopping
with tweezers
for atomized food
---
poetry
as engineering
---
tormented contortions of language
replicated ad nauseum
in search of me too formulaic
maternity wards of yackity yac
just intellectual camouflage
in the shape of servitude
---
while grieving the heroic
forgetting there's near infinite ways
to interpret the complex
pushing mechanisms of the derivative
and radical relativism
as fear kills the avantgarde
---
"there is no god
and his only son is Jesus"