On the Lessons of Becoming A Poet

On the state of aesthetics, they have left it to chance-
And gone is the bravura, the last age of romance-
The spark, and the legato of the universal bloom.


Today, they will only teach us of gender in the classroom-
To examine our swollen bodies from part to part;
They will show us the abstract-that art is art,


While drawing the intellect to the distinction of classes-
Here in the quiet revolution of the cultic masses-
Of people preaching on the platforms of public transit,


Where occasionally they pay their crafty lawyers a visit-
To speak of rights, freedom, and the Grand Old Idea
With twisted lessons on the use of onomatopoeia.


So they have furnished for us what is left in essence-
To embrace ourselves fashioned in each other's presence
With the language of our souls drifting ambiguously away,


In the larger universal scheme of things they say,
Where pundits and craftsmen alike attempt to rearrange
What is judged the like as paradigm, and what is change.