This Was Not an Accident
At some point in this chaos, confusion gives way to collapse. For this section of poems, I wanted to move beyond capturing warning signs. I chose poems that sit squarely in the moment where language has calcified, and outcomes have been decided – where responsibility remains strangely fluid, never landing and never owned.
These poems reject the framing that no one currently in charge could have anticipated what came next, they are certainly not to blame, and the damage just happened.
I chose poems that sit with the uncomfortable truth: beloved institutions do not fail by chance. They are steered. Incentives and disincentives are chosen. What power exists is exercised to protect the leadership, not to steward the institution. Those who do the work absorb the consequences while others remain carefully insulated.
I also chose poems that allow some humor to enter, not to soften the critique, but because I needed it to survive. I have relied on my humor to sharpen the line between cause and effect and to tell the truth when official language will not. This is the point where the lighter fluid meets the match.
There’s little mystery to this damage. It has been engineered.
Guess Who Burned the College
Somebody torched the college.
What a terrible thing to do!
Somebody torched the college.
The surprise is knowing who.
You’ve read of absent presidents
And provosts with no clue.
The CFO and southern Veep
We’ll skip that weary crew.
But when it comes to letting things
Slip slowly out of view,
Somebody torched the college.
We haven’t named just who.
Always there behind the scenes
To cheer the prez – woohoo!
She told them all they need to know
No thinking left to do.
They met and pondered aimlessly
While rot and ruin grew.
They cut off all communication,
Just like they’d been told to do.
They didn’t carry flamethrowers,
No secret plan was hatched.
Apathy and ignorance
Were the lighter fluid and match.
Somebody torched the college,
Burning it down to the core.
Somebody torched the college.
You guessed it – it was the board.
Note: A grateful nod to Shel Silverstein
Failing Up
How does a back-slappin’, slow-talkin’, story-spinnin’ Southern boy,
End up in advancement with no plan, no ploy, just noise?
Just take a glad hand, never take a stand,
Always yes, don’t second guess,
Just failing upward, more or less
How does an always grinning, half-trained, backwoods golf-bro
Lead a women’s college in bringing in the major dough?
Tell a different story every time he’s due.
All hat, no cattle, not a single clue.
Just failing upward, enjoy the view
How does a cause-dismissing, truth-smudgin’, paper-thin man
Write off student protest as “skipping class cause you can”?
Calls campus courage “drama” and dismisses with a groan
Righteous anger, just a phase they’ll outgrow.
Just failing upward; integrity has flown.
How does a big voice, small-town, yarn-spinning yokel
Explain this brave new order to the unsuspecting locals?
Layoffs? Not a problem - only “chicks” got canned.
Walk them to the Chapel, just like we planned
Just failing upward, pure sleight of hand!
How does a gift-taking, rule-breaking, loophole-loving guy
Turn restricted gifts into “whatever” without an alibi?
Fawn all over donors, play it off as respect.
Spin a smooth tale – no trace of disconnect.
Just failing upward, don’t fact check.
How does a man this shallow keep a college in the red,
While women lose their jobs, and he keeps failing up instead?
Note: With my deepest apologies to Lin-Manuel Miranda.
Crisis in Couplets
Secret Search
In a lurch.
CFO power trip.
Covenant slipped.
Random fires.
Faculty ire.
Constant lies.
Culture dies.
Hire friends.
Fairness ends.
Provost vanity.
Academic calamity.
Ignore process.
Multiply stress.
Changed rules.
Empty schools.
Endless takes.
Trust breaks.
Deans gone.
Soldier on.
President ghosts.
Meredith toasts.