Sunday, September 24, 2017

This is not a poem for J.A.

I need my space
The t-shirt with stars says
While the malls burn all around
The barricades being built
Until they are one with violence
The night comes it is all
They have left after
The world has ended again
This is not a poem
For John Ashbery who
Killed the subject quietly
With the kitsch of elites
We would imitate until
Our actual voices fade
Or the spaces a public didn’t make
Are finally recognized.