They ran our love through all their screens,
Then told us we were not a match;
Their apparatus brought to bear
On anyone their snares could catch
These butterfly collectors who
Place everyone behind the glass,
In categories, rimmed with signs,
A handful from a teeming mass
Identities defined by them
Are not the main thing, no. Instead,
It is the locks, the box, the cage,
And making sure their subjects all
Stay dead
So – if we deal with people, we
Will find that we have both;
It’s s’posed to make us wiser, and
Contribute to our growth
The critics say we’re lost, but then,
We knew that all along;
Admirers say we’re fine as is,
But then, that just seems wrong
We all are on our journeys, and
We can’t foresee all ends:
It turns out what we really need
Is simple: we need friends
For while they may admire us
Or criticize us, too —
We walk along together, that’s
The most we hope to do
It’s part of our humanity:
While wand’ring the unknown,
If we do it together, then
At least
We’re not
Alone
I’ll enjoy a movie
Then read critics who’ll insist:
There was no one who liked it
And so I do not exist
This happens to me all the time
It turns out that it’s odd
To have your own opinions, whether here
Or off abroad
For there is one consensus
We are all supposed to share:
But I form my own judgments
And I guess
I just don’t
Care
Here’s to the life of critics, raise
Your glasses up in toast –
In praise of microorganisms
Trying to eat
Their hosts
I love how Norman Rockwell has become a byword
For mediocre painters
Who perpetuated the myth
Of some idealistically pure America
And yet, his work was
Both better and
More complex than that
And he lives on
A byword for artists
Who outlast their critics
It’s ineluctable to find
That some of academic mind
Will venture to apostrophize
Some long-dead artist they despise
For being what they never could
Both interesting, and really good:
The small, asserting with their pen
What they think greatness
Should have been
According to some twaddlecrat
Out on their YouTube page
In one song, they’re “a little sharp”.
This causes him to rage —
I find this rather humorous
The insults that are hurled
At anyone who’s close to being
The best in the world
I checked with egocentric sports stars – no.
Then checked with politicians – no.
Then checked with political activists – no.
I even checked with religious zealots – no.
Finally, and most surprisingly, not even journalists
Have such an inflated idea
Of the sacredness of their calling
As critics
