I feel and take in beauty so deeply,
That I don’t know whether I should resent
Or represent it. Or read it neatly,
And write an analysis to present:
At conferences of studious niggards,
Of “culture”—quote, unquote—though it’s different,
When you re-present a group disfigured:
By “culture”—quote, unquote–, its cultivars,
Its transfixing fixes and its gazes,
Its monstrous breed and their undying wars,
Which make out of blood and ink their mazes:
A labyrinth, puzzle, or endless board game,
Crime, money, life, quiz—it’s all a wordgame.