OctPoWriMo 14

Sometimes shelving the stacks brings you
Unwittingly to books of poetry
Consumed at such an early age
Before you knew too much of the world
Singing each to each too soon! Too soon!
And the metaphors leaping over the moon
Artifacts of a world you thought you could have known
If the burdens of unpaid student loans hadn’t kept you home
While all the business suits wracked up their 401k’s
And the bottom dropped out of the market multiple ways
Now no one has any use for poesy
Not that they ever did but somehow that’s why
When you turn to pages published in 1997
When you were merely a freshman
It sounds like another universe a far rockaway of the heart
That world so far distant you thought about to start
The twentieth century losing religion half a world away
Half of your life was spent this way
Dodging from catastrophe to catastrophe
Hoping the five freedoms hardly enumerated made to see
Somehow the trajectory turned to fascism
The bitter end result of pervasive postmodernism
Who tells the truth? Who even has an opinion?
By turning the channels you can avoid all collision
Even if the election turns a certain way
That doesn’t make the ugliness go away
It was always here it still exists
Even if the resistance somehow resists
We all have so much work to do we haven’t begun
To count the dreams that pass like the breath of everyone