Litkicks Message Board Archive

A Local Study of Study (Critique Welcome)

Posted to Poetry


After living from syllabus to syllabus,
With a child the second year,
A second child the third,
I’m approaching graduation
As if it were an asymptote.
Knowledge, knowledge, everywhere—
But not a fucking second
To think.
I can’t live
In the present
Anymore, because I’m sick of it.

And I grow older,
Still failing in every way
Our culture can never forgive.
I want nothing
More than to bash a thorny head—
Any thorny head will do—
Against a self-made cross.
These dark moods lay siege to me.

Predatory and suspicious as a black cat,
I’ve run my fingers through
The thousand faces of the Norton Scores
Under the bright lights
Of a dark mind, sifting
Through the great compulsions
Of the high-strung composers,
All those tortured cores—another hour wasted
Hunched over another labor
In the basement of a university library.

Yet there’s something to be said
For walking half blind
Through a dark world,
No way to quench the appetites.
Desire creates.
I don’t ask for much,
Just at least forty pages in Norton,
And enough money
To buy everything
I want,
At any time.