Regarding subversion

Regarding subversion


The words are like so many dried bones

Ossified. Dust collects on them

Laid out in their piles in ossuaries

I read briefly a few words, a few lines

And feel myself begin to dry out too

As if the dehydration is contagious

Simply by casting an eye in consideration

Words without meaning or relevance

Seem to threaten to invade my thoughts

I think of Flaubert and his dread of stupidity

Words that were viewed with some importance

Apparently by a particular favoured circle

Concerning kitchen sink dramas or the view

Or the intricacies of a morose sex life

Or the guilt of solitary masturbation

Or the endlessness of the doldrums

Of the middleclass way of life

The writers speak for a narrow few

Of endless shame, of existential threat

But hold nevertheless a stranglehold

On who will be treated seriously

There lies the trick do not be serious

Do not write about spleen or phlegm

Or write with any kind of reality

Or challenge those who helplessly write

But have nothing to say

About nothing in particular.

Subversion is needed no demanded

To bring the ossuaries down.