Poetry for the People
If that I could write
poetry for the people
but the people cannot listen to a missive
uninterrupted
after each 13-minute segment.
The attack on the human attention span
renders us no longer able to concentrate
to the point where
it becomes difficult even to choose
personal hair care products
of our own free will.
And there is too much being said
as we who call ourselves poets
broadcast our mental tinkering
to the world
at the virtual press of a button.
And our words become lost
in an illimitable ocean of words
in which the reader either
endures the waves and gains the strength to swim
or simply gives in, sinking to a murky death below.
And the coda, the trailer for next week’s episode,
reads:
did the reader drown in the art of language?
or did the reader simply drown
in language?
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