"It's about words, and words are all I have…"



curated samitches

curated kids

curated beau

Faux pond beside which I write this poem


In my gentrified hood  I have to look hard for signs

of putrifacto  (this a.m. a rotting bat   holy batshit!)

The alchemists spun straw into gold  maybe my local

hipsters can transmute boredom into curated passion


They sit in our parks in hoards at mid-day  Are they all

.com millionaires or just millennials without jobs?  In the

40’s they’d have been in foxholes  warplanes  +graveyards


Today there’s nothing grave about my 20 somethings  They

are super-beautiful  Dustypink cheeks meet overgrown beards

They are so hip it hurts   in places where  I used to be hip

In flowerchild places   In Quaalude bacchanalia places


When Zimmerman plugged-in  reverb woke up an old beast

birthing the Judas’  who crucified their King    Were those

simpler times?  Or just as sublime as the 50’s  when folks were

fried for selling atomic secrets  to Russian spies


Ethel Rosenberg’s brother recently died  He confessed that he’d

lied    Sent his sister to the chair to protect his wife    CAN YOU

BLAME ME?   he cried


The great mythos of our century  is that we are LIBERATED

Except that all of the LIBS   have just made us slaves to curated

ideologies  This week two 16 yr. old girls have embraced the term

feminism  They are: Girls Who Code  +they have invented a video

game: Tampon Run   Soon they will be on park benches  their faux

hippie skirts  swinging in curated breezes



Their voices thin+high+meaningless+at the same time profoundly

wild+sad   Life was created in the valleys  it blew up onto the hills

on the old terrors  the old lusts  the old despairs    That’s why you

must Wake Up  (William Faulkner As I Lay Dying 1930)




MID FALL   2014





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One thought on “GOD

  1. M. Atkins on said:

    Yikes! It’s called the pussification of America.

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