Sellout

Posted: March 10, 1995 in Poetry
Tags: , , , ,

I sold out to the rat race:
My time is spent trivially
Pursuing carrots and cash-ews
Running around like a chicken
With its common sense head cut off.
Important criteria have shifted,
Tabbed into the margins of
My papers.
I’m so busy taking notes
There’s no body, no bulk,
No substance, no spirit,
And the price gets paid in years.
Oh, the price gets paid
In years
From now until then
I make myself miserable
By working to make myself
Happy to write poetry
To the bone I go
To the cancerous lip and lung
To my tattered
Standard
Of living.

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