(no subject)
"A Lack of Malice"
There is no malice
in sleep
Even in the most random lust
is unintentional
and has no meaning in hues of red
and green
However guilty one feels
upon waking.
All feelings are either elated or sad
or some variation thereof
There are no sinister natures
Dreamers
are sociopaths
Feeling no intent
There are no hunters
even though one hunts
There are no murderers
even though one murders
There is blank and void
until realisation
upon waking
For those who don't know (which is most of you, myself included until recently), David Bottoms is the poet Laureate of GA. Go figure.
"Disregard (Watching David Bottoms)"
You can get away
with disregard.
Staring at some-random-one in the crowd,
or down at your notes,
or walking out when introduced.
There seems to be some apathy
in being a contemporary poet:
Some aloofness that allows you
to act disinterested.
Do you think, though, that we're not watching you
with just as much intense scrutiny
as we should be giving our speaker?
Or maybe you have heard it all
with registered boredom.
It's not the philosophy of one who believes
that there are "no new ideas,"
but none will be shared here
(except, perhaps, your own?)
But there is an intensity and persistence
in the way you hold whomever
or no one.
Like the cogs are turning
and the ears are tuned
but only the eyes
disregard.
There is no malice
in sleep
Even in the most random lust
is unintentional
and has no meaning in hues of red
and green
However guilty one feels
upon waking.
All feelings are either elated or sad
or some variation thereof
There are no sinister natures
Dreamers
are sociopaths
Feeling no intent
There are no hunters
even though one hunts
There are no murderers
even though one murders
There is blank and void
until realisation
upon waking
For those who don't know (which is most of you, myself included until recently), David Bottoms is the poet Laureate of GA. Go figure.
"Disregard (Watching David Bottoms)"
You can get away
with disregard.
Staring at some-random-one in the crowd,
or down at your notes,
or walking out when introduced.
There seems to be some apathy
in being a contemporary poet:
Some aloofness that allows you
to act disinterested.
Do you think, though, that we're not watching you
with just as much intense scrutiny
as we should be giving our speaker?
Or maybe you have heard it all
with registered boredom.
It's not the philosophy of one who believes
that there are "no new ideas,"
but none will be shared here
(except, perhaps, your own?)
But there is an intensity and persistence
in the way you hold whomever
or no one.
Like the cogs are turning
and the ears are tuned
but only the eyes
disregard.