fodder

Is there a point then if it isn’t the best? liked? understood?

If it hasn’t been cast in emeralds and strung around an impossibly thin, socialite of a woman?

Is the value then determined by the source who receives it? And if none? if one? if two? Is it the what that counts or the why?

Does anyone know the difference? Does anyone even care?

Most things of note get shot out into the world jet-like, propelled into the abyss, the eerily beautiful abyss, only to be caught on the wing of a plane, dragged back down to earth and left to flounder like a dying fish, so completely out of place, there, on the runway.

It becomes just like everything else; fodder for the masses, in their mediocre, impressionistic, catatonic state.