Some led.  Some left.
Some remained, more or less.
Our credibility has been compromised:
the idiocies and idiosyncrasies,
the bureaucratic idiocies,
the secondhand debauchery,
the cadaverous apathy
of the Dispersalists,
their trivial tribal tribulations,
their inferred causemology,
their post-pubertic madness
free of the need to worship
the presence or the lack,
the fashion for fashion,
to join the miserable merrymaking
of the perennially hierarchical—
yet they dream of uninteresting things.
Unworthy things.  Undesirable things.
Unmentionable things.
I can do this too!
I no longer look closely enough to see
them well:  they proved less interesting
than I thought on first acquaintance.
I need a float for my anchor.
Is a cliche still a cliche
in an amnesic society?
And what of our preference
for episodic representation?
Good taste is broad, not narrow.
It is time to commit ourselves
to interrogating the dissenters:
"What do you know?
What do you know that we don't know?"