All These Carusos

All the internet’s a raised eyebrow, a smug look
and Caruso singing me, me, me, o solo mio,
remedial bumblers attempting insight, declaring
themselves non-carriers of blight and stuck,
vituperative non-entities trumpeting their lies
as insight because they never look for themselves

where they’d confide hey that came out seemingly
alright, struck a chord of similarities by those
who peruse the profound in an instant, now
decoratively stating this is right, nothing else shall
suit us or we fall off the edge of this flat earth
we’ve contrived where everything known remains in sight

with all the Carusos gargling vowels and turning
trite the trivial flickering lights above themselves
mistaken for halos, spitting out blurbs as history
alters course for their lack of right or wrong
balanced upon who welcomes, who might refuse:
each mules the drug they claim not to recognize at all

©Dean Baker

-from Steel Butterflies

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