To my mind, postmodernism represents, above all, the birth of modern mediocrity, especially with regard to poetry. It has its points of interest, which I take and use in my own way and for my own purposes; but the rest I happily leave.
To the Postmodernist
your hands wave
in a sea of swaying hands
through cold dark waters
kelp shifting under swells
lost in formation
your voice howls out
against rocky cliffs
drowned in the crashing parade
of white-noise waves
lost in the drone
your words flash
briefly into view
on the tops of curling waves
a moments notice
lost in the tide
