The Lovesong of J. Alfred Moocrock

LET us go then, you and I,
When the faculty senate meeting is spread out against the sky
Like a tenured colleague etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-employed terms,
Like muttering interns
Of restless days in one-semester cheap classes
And sawdust classrooms beyond the chattering asses:
Articles that follow ignorant, tedious arguments
“Neutral” of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question….
Oh, do not ask, “Why is it?”
Let us go and keep our mouths shut.

In the room the Shirkeys come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the Udacity sites,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the Udacity sites
Licked its tongue into the corners of the pedagogy,
Lingered upon the fools that trust markets,
Let roll off its back the concerns that fall from precarity,
Slipped by the shared governance, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft semester night,
Curled once about the house, and lulled it to sleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the university,
Rubbing its back upon the Udacity sites;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the Shirkeys come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

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