Going Down, a free-form paean to investigative journalism

(and how so-called social media can spread it but not replace it)

they say
poets can say anything
a filched purse’s energy
for instance comes across
or the traffic lights at night downtown
that keep blinking when no one’s around
but the they who do the saying
decide who hears about them

the fucked newspapers
going down on TV
as a harbinger of some new era
wherein I matter and
to just talk, and be
satisfies for civil disobedience

no mistake, we’re at odds
with they, schmucks
who were themselves writing once
and now pretend scrolling’s
something it’s not.

maybe cash’ll do it to anyone
but me and my house,
we’ll write about the smell
of apartment lobby carpet
never cleaned but always dusted with that
coverup powder you love to inhale
but know is killing you