The poem we deserve
is perfectly worthless.
it won't support ads,
it has nothing to sell us,
and needless to say it won't
pay for our lunch.
its words are furtive,
foreign to follow,
explosive to mouth;
its structure is
like a church which is
loyal to no one—
all its shapes and sounds
are the most frivolous
kinds of pleasures
with no past relation
perishing now
and refusing later.
The poem we deserve
wasn't built;
it resists all systems,
pre-existing structures,
acceptable modes of power.
In other words—
the poem we deserve
is pure revolution:
once it exists,
it always has
been like this—
after its over,
nobody notices
no one remembers.
