Friday, November 5, 2010


Image source: Nate Williams
I met a traveler from a modern land
who said: I used to think I knew
what avant-garde meant, it meant
new art so advanced you can't understand
it, like a chic perfume without a scent.
An avant-garde poem was abstract you
could get rid of commas and capital letters
forget making sense dreams were better
irony mandatory and meaning arbitrary
like poker with blanks instead of cards.
It was intimidating and I remained leery
until I met A. and his avant-garde smile:
“Just do the opposite of whatever's in style,”
he said with a wink when he won an award.
“You see, it isn't so hard to be avant-garde.”

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