(after W.B. Yeats)
by Michael A. Winkelman, La Tuta
Young, woke profs, by true love perplexed,
With coiffed, hip, Photoshopped profiles,
Interrogate the forlorn texts
Of sad men, from Love’s realm exiles,
Who lying alone with weary heart
Stitched their pains into lasting Art.
All retweet there, all post online,
All ‘Like’ the blogs their kind curate,
All make space safe for P.C. whines,
All hand out A’s to grade-inflate.
Lord, what would William Butler write?
Would he not denounce such utter shite?
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