there’s pleasure
in being disappointed,
there are shortcomings
when seeking happiness,
but there’s never pleasure
nor shortcomings of 
what is said to be
but isn’t
 
there’s typography,
where the vital existential crisis
is that something can be nothing;
moreover the sardonic artworks
that seem to be profound
are actually the artist cleaning some brushes;
there’s President Eisenhower’s farewell address
where the philosophy,
we should take nothing for granted,
can be taken for granted
 
this is where text becomes hyper,
and the domain is limitless,
where there is both
bullshit
and bliss;
so ridiculous that
this doesn’t even need
three double-u’s 
or capitalization in the title
 
this is catch-22;
this is where one observes predicaments,
pickles,
dilemmas of an artist;
and the only triumph
is seeing the quip in text
and satire in prints
 
so when happiness and disappointment
converge,
happiness seems to disappoint and
disappointment becomes a happiness; 
there isn’t happiness
unless it’s disappointment