As new new new gets old we hear the call
Forever crying for the newest stuff of all.
“Edgy,” “avant-garde,” et cetera, “Where’s BLAST?”
Or even old Walt, whose self-publication
Defined the arrogance of a stupid nation
In the smug savagery of a Nazi past,
And blind and bigoted complacency
Dominates these cattle, so well-fed
On dumb ideas they moo the past is dead
But love old Ezra’s demented agility
And reverence the wisdom of TV,
The self-reward of cleverness detached
From all experience of surfaces scratched,
And spin their squealing wheels obnoxiously.
R. W. Haynes lives about a mile from where Mr. Trump wants to build a wall, and he lives in fear that for political reasons his dogs' view of Mexico may one day be blocked.