A week ago this morning, the Twitter feed of rapper, producer, and poly-impresario Kanye West briefly flashed to life, bestowing two words upon its nearly nine and a half million followers: "June Eighteen." West's feed, once one of the liveliest corners of the Internet, had been relatively dormant of late. Those two words were thus quickly imbued with oracular significance, with most observers speculating that they indicated the day that West's still-untitled sixth solo album would be released to the public. West's newest work—which, for found poetry's sake, we'll refer to here as June Eighteen—is easily the most anticipated release of 2013, so much so that a single tweet becomes an event unto itself, the meaning of "June Eighteen" residing in its own anticipation.
We live in the time of Kanye West. Since his solo debut with The College Dropout in early 2004, no artist has come close to approaching West's twin heights of commercial success and critical adulation. This remarkably prolonged consensus reached its zenith (at least, so far) with the release of West's last solo album, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, in November of 2010. It was so widely praised that it caused a sort of discursive crisis for being a grandiose and unabashedly self-styled masterpiece forged for an era in which such things aren't really supposed to exist. (We always find, yeah we always something wrong...)