2020-12-23T16:08:12-08:00December 27th, 2020|Musings on life|

In defense of Instapoets

I am old enough to remember
when long-distance phone calls
were too expensive
to have at any time
except Sunday after six.

And that writing a letter by hand left an indent
in my middle finger,
a little pothole
that pens still roll into.

All of which taught me
an economy of language,
that words came with a price.

And before me, the telegram,
and calligraphy, and right back
to the effort of stone
on a cold cave wall.

Perhaps humans need this limitation,
if only to experience
the sumptuous gratification
of choosing exactly the right words
to describe the cagey thoughts
that fizz inside our heads.

So, to all the noble poets,
won’t you make room
for the Instapoets
and the Twitter poets
and the TikTok poets,

can’t you see
they are just creatives like you,
thirsty for restraint
in a world
that is now
mostly buffet.

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