I have determined that generation Z
doesn’t believe in criticism of any kind;
they haven’t the discipline or habit of mind;
their brains are poisoned by too much irony.
None of the foregoing applies, of course, to me.
I only read text that’s found between the lines
and ferment images as grands crus wines
derive from simple grapes. They flee from me,
these stupid kids, these motherfucking geeks;
they won’t pull up their pants; they won’t improve;
they do not say their daily affirmations;
O Muse! in whose once mighty song one seeks
interpretations enough to fill a Louvre
with the prized wall texts of all the modern nations!