Read Poetry: Sestina: THE DANGERS OF THEY, by Steven Fortune

Now I’m cornering the refuge of a definition;
algorithms made a rat of me, I’m guilty by association.
What’s an era, what’s a generation,
when the stats are kept so tight?
Where’s attrition when the compass swindles sight?
Who appoints a winner in two claims of divine right?

Duelling definers spar for geist diviners who adjudicate degrees of right.
The spectacle uncovers risk in seeking refuge in a definition.
The impasse hammering estrangement between its weight and volume compromises sight.
Is there such a thing as affiliation, even self-association,
in this era of hermetic numbers exercising its serenely tight
monopoly of flexibility on morals of a generation?

For those who have no interest in the generation
as a spiritual fraternity, there’s a claim on what is right
in the fine print of a war’s declaration statement. Money won’t be tight
forever for the soldiers or the sympathizers. Genocide will rock the definition
that endorses all manner of association
bent on prying all the pixels out of what passes for enlightened sight.

They aspire to equivocate the trust of individual sight;
they are waging eye-candy campaigns of paring down to a clique a generation
fixing to resign itself to avatar association,
for eye contact will be declared a superfluous right
in the effort to uphold the most convenient definition.
The dissipation of a noble leader’s traits is promised by the visual dissection of the leaders; the probing slices deliberate and tight.

Division of the physical enables the enforcement of a tight
command on conditions for the social. Torn between the sight
that fuels my observations, and the canon definition
of a people’s progress, I refuse to personify a generation
selling out consensus celebrations of right
to legislators celebrating easy conformity through practical association.

Indebted to identity, and tantalized by the deals of the grand association,
the ties of binding – once an easy source of solace – now are tight
beyond my grip’s ability to pick apart the right
from wrong directions on the moral map comprised from raw sight.
Is it even relevant to who’s a member of a gypsy generation?
One no longer plotting recourse to refuge in a definition?

Ghost association I invest in graded sight
until the tight constraints of a compressed generation
suffocate a sense of right with a state definition.

03 08 19

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