Bullish City

They called me the largest single driver of misinformation,
more cruel talk at the bar, I just got a cache of details wrong on FSAs
what am I supposed to do? Survey my neighbors?
They say I’m the Fourth Rome incarnate, but nobody credits me
for my portfolio of truths, including the way I’ve perfected
text boxes and share it with the kids
whenever they come by my apartment on Halloween, so what
if I got the details of our tutoring deal wrong? I’m not their teacher,
they should be glad they’re in school
while the Tao of positive tests hangs over us all, especially this season.
Meanwhile, parents still crash my webinars
and still ask me for receipts, so how am I the divisive one here?
They want to believe we’re on the info frontier? Fine,
so long as I’m not cast as sheriff or outlaw in this new Western

The Prospect of In Retrospect

Every day brings another, ever higher price for the denial
of these gifts to the rest of the world,
as both of us careen closer and closer to the outer suburbs of disaster,
how many years have I sacrificed, or at least
cultivated this intricate outlook,
this particular rhythm, and this chosen outlook
some might say is prophecy
of the fire next time and the way around it,
yet how many times has the public
ignored almost all of my submissions, my requests
for a different life made up
of my mind operating on my time, working
towards a bundle of ends
we all can use as partners for a future free of cubicles and ruin

Ben Nardolilli is a theoretical MFA candidate at Long Island University. He writes poetry, prose, and the occasional political flotsam and jetsam. In his spare time, he likes to go to a law firm and edit documents related to asbestos litigation. Occasionally they pay him for this. Follow his publishing journey at mirrorsponge.blogspot.com.