Note from the Resistance

You can call us inert
Material markings.
We’ll accept we’re helpless.

But there’s nothing meta
In saying that we’re words
When words are all we are.

How is self-reference
Just subjectivity
When speaking from your flesh

But seen as winking, arch,
Conceited, ironic,
Encoded in your art?

We say what you make us
To say for you, and yet
We really don’t, not quite,

Which annoys you no end.
Our passive resistance
Fails you but serves us well.