the treachery of images in poetry

here we are, you and me
living in the bad universe
on the wrong side of history
lost in someone else’s memory

the hum of the fluorescent lights
bleed out a queasy faded green
not because they forget the words
but because they hate
what the words now mean
we’re only left with images
impressionistic gibberish

this urgent ancient adoration
contrapositive conflagrations
natures nurtures native nation
trained for transubstantiation

we can’t stand the words
but by reflex we hum along
this is the timeline we’re in
we’re gonna try to stay strong
we’ll try to make it better
even though we know right now
it’s wrong