Welcome to another installment of Art Critic, in which we attempt a negative definition of art by excluding everything in Santa Barbara.
The Independent has a proud tradition of publishing unusual poetry, and today saw the continuation of that saga with a rhythmic meditation on “Electronic Devices”. To attempt to perform a close reading of such a work would be folly, as Gandalf reminds us: “he that breaks a thing to find out what it is has left the path of wisdom.”
So instead we will respond with verses of our own.
Bad poetry’s a crying shame —
But who’s at fault — what to blame?
Look at all these awful verses
None of them with any purpose
I hate all this tech and I won’t tell you why
(It gives me a chance to be published online).
Now my rhythm gets bad, and I leave out a comma,
The editor’s sad;
Reading my poem, line by line
Drowning her horror and sorrow in wine.
You can’t do this with print media, my friend.
I’m so pleased with this new drivel-publishing trend.