Triste The problem with being a poet these days is that there is no common language, not of ideas, not of refined emotions. There is "buzz"—plenty of it— and "spin"—even more— and the sinister language of politics: shallow one-liners, ads to sell money-making notions, hair care, skin lotions ... But try this: Try referring to literature, history, the philosophy of ideas, the arts! What's that? You will invite the blank stare of the baboon, the baby with the spoon. Shakespeare? An anger-mangement app? Decartes? A hand-held mapping device? The French Revolution? A rock group from Paris? A cocktail of wine and absinthe? Forget the absinthe. Who's heard of that? "Triste." But perhaps we had better just say "sad."
	—Louis Martin