On mimesis

Teenagers, children, fight over mimesis. What to be, which to be, how to be, why to be but usually which, like in a game show. Poets sometimes do when they have the energy to be like children. The great wars of adults used to be over mimesis until the war mongers came to rule like tyrants through their pocketbooks, killing whomever they can get away with killing in the late stages of their decline. But the wars over mimesis were always worse, the lords say. I say goodbye to them and I say it slowly.