from “Mister Today”

Mister Today has wandered into a press conference.
They were launching selected poems of two world poets,
one big and one not so big.
(the latter was being presented by someone
who only a short while ago spoke of him derisively
but was now bending over backwards to praise him
in half-broken Slovenian).
This is how it ends, he thought.
This is the meaning of poetry. To be launched
in a bookshop in a provincial town.
On a grey autumn day,
waiting for a coffee
to be served
following the empty bullshit.