The Postmodern Kitty has graduated magna cum laude
With a degree in Ennui, a minor in
Disdain of Western Civilization.
She is unsurprised
When chaos descends unexpectedly
Into her pedestrian days,
Since she is so often
The agent of it.
She spends hours at a time
Contemplating creating the definitive art installation
That will demonstrate the essential
Uselessness of action.
Her contemplation
- to the uninitiated –
Is indistinguishable from napping.
Her art installations
Are indistinguishable from – well.
Everyone’s a critic.
Besides (the Postmodern Kitty thinks)
All Art now is just
Fashion
All Literature merely
Fashion
All Music merely
Fashion Fashion Fashion. Why go on?
Why create?
The Postmodern Kitty takes
Another hit of catnip,
Knocks over a vase
And contemplates what form would best be suited to
Revolution
In this dozing world.