I can smell it
The scent of research
Into programs
And professes
The veil of legitimacy
Conferred by an institution
With a four page About page
I do love hiding behind the cloth
A trainee in a priesthood to a religion of debts
Interest rate: genesis
And on the seventh day, graduation
Climbing a ladder, rung, bells
Informally, though,
I find the core of it all
It's not on a list of books
Or a schedule of papers
Or in the mind of a scholarly guide
I can only find myself by looking
And I don't need to pay tuition
To walk into classrooms
To watch and wait and wait some more
For a conferred paper, in exchange for lots of papers
I'm finding what I'm looking for on this self-guided tour
Of this open air museum
An art installation maintained in some parts and laying fallow in other fields
I'll use spoons to feed myself, sometimes
Other times, I'll eat with my hands
And while the rituals bring comfort
There's little comfort in learning very little
In an institution built to be higher
Roman Ryan 