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About Us




We resent our inner compulsions
which necessitate assessment
and overt direction of the
thrumming multitudes we acknowledge
without our perimeters
but there is no wickedness in them:
the potential for it lies only in
our decision to deny or permit
(not, as commonly said, to resist or submit).

We watch for improvement
and wait for approval.

How can we assess value when we don't know
what baselines were established before we got here?

We listen to each other's noise
hoping to hear music.

Part of our code
leaves us open to input:
we are susceptible to being told.

We fool ourselves
into thinking that co-opting successful tricks
isn't conforming.

We are physically biased against freedom.

We distrust the dissimilar.
We are all better.
We use culture to measure time longer.

We are saddened by things that don't last long enough;
we fear things that last too long.
But what is “too long”?

We are most industrious
at tearing our sails.

We have relinquished courtyard, orchard, lawn,
and boxed ourselves into cells.

Without excess
how can we set boundaries on sufficiency?

We won't know
what we need
until it's too late.

Because we end so soon
we are obsessed with endings.

We want to understand
but not to suffer the disappointment of understanding,
so we adopt the pose
but refuse to know.

Most of us now want a stage for our spectacles.
Or a screen. To be seen.

We want recognition and reward.
We are neglected and forgotten.

We all contain a whisper, a mutter, a mumble and a gasp.
The debate over whether it is important, or how important it is,
to listen to them is centuries long and no closer to resolution
than it was the day the first word was uttered.

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.