Nihilism will not tend the garden
The goodness of your tribes still worries you.
Leftist poets and born-again Christians
Have this much in common, you think, having
Bunked down, in your own mind at least, with both—
They talk an awful lot, and thoughtfully,
About whether they’re doing the best thing,
Forensically displaying their actions
And dissecting themselves with those scalpels,
The acceptable terms of righteousness,
The signifiers of seriousness
About ethical dilemmas within
The context of their own tribal discourse.
Their sincerity’s both real and display,
Each line plowing the tribe’s furrows deeper.
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