memorial for a brilliant woman

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

To poets who say I'm not part of the revolution:

Don't talk to me about change

I'm not in a good place right now
and this is not a good time for you
to hand me a platter of metaphors,
tropes, and poetic anarchy, not that
anytime to come will prove better.

You see, I'm like the ten year old
bed wetter who can't get it right
on any kind of consistent basis,
all he can tell is one morning
he's dry, the next he wakes wet.

I like the sequence of five lines,
four verses or more, occasionally
a pick-up couplet at the end
mocking a sonnet, creating out
of a din something orderly.

My words are perfidy and pomp, not
revolution in shaky compromise,
To get this far, I once carved a road
you can't see because it's common
now, everybody goes that way.

I was a child, then I held the hand
of a child. Reach out, it's your turn.


twitches said...

I like this, and I agree with the sentiment. We have to be faithful to our muse(s), fads and fashion be damned.

ecm said...

I came upon your blog from The Twitching Line, and I really, really liked this. The image of the bed wetter, the title (or first line?) and the ending lines with the hands holding hands.