She is the perfect type of person,
To explain my kind of person,
To your kind of person…
Pound had no PhD,
Nor did Van Gogh,
Or Bach,
Beethoven,
Or any of the other myriad volcanoes
– Actual,
And metaphorical –
That nature produces,
Every now,
And again…
Without explanation,
Or justification,
Every once in a while,
Or every once in a where,
Nature simply brings together,
The precise combination,
Of materials,
And occurrences,
That produce volcanic eruptions,
Of lava,
Or genius…
Same difference…
You can’t buy your way,
Into becoming one…
Nor study your way,
Or steal,
Or sleep yourself up to it…
You either are,
Or you aren’t…
And if you aren’t,
The best you can hope for,
Is to study,
Buy,
Bribe,
Suck,
Or rim yourself to the top,
Of the heap,
Of academic experts,
Mediators,
Curators,
Interpreters,
Etc.
Thousands of PhDs have,
And will be,
Attained by analyzing people,
And things,
That barely know ‘their’ experts exist…
If at all…
A fact that you can do nothing about,
Regardless of how inappropriate it is,
For me to shove it in your faces like this…
And I don’t do it to raise myself,
– You will already never see the soles of my feet –
But to try to instill some humility in you,
For the sake of those you keep trampled,
Beneath your stinky mediocre feet…