I haven’t seen the best minds of my generation
Maybe because they were told they were good, important, listened to
Before they made any effort, before they did any work but
I think it’s cowardice
I think they’re afraid to communicate what they believe with courageous clarity
I want to read poems written with sledgehammers
Not antique quills
That resonate in beerhalls and bowling alleys
Not pinky raised tea rooms
Where pretentiousness is not a prerequisite
And understanding not a little club
Filled with sychophants
Are you with me?
Are you fucking with me?