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The Lamentation of the Inward-Eyed




I can forgive the derivative
that doesn't claim to be original

but you want images

unspecific resemblance
gradations of gratification
inhibitions eroded into demands

every season's color
incorporated

and I perceive in thought
dwell in thought
craft gifts of thought.

I'm not a TV—
we have TVs now,
I don't need to be.

Rhythm contains random, briefly,
but shouldn't control it.
Euphoria is a poor route to growth.

Apparently I have always suffered
from apophenia
when I've looked at other people

arbitrary mercenaries
cracking under grace under pressure
from the frivolous necessities.

Even the obvious can be forgotten
is forgotten, constantly,

but who can forgive the poet
who stares silently at something
then turns and copies it on paper?

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