Friday, April 29, 2011

Flunking Poets' Catechism

"How dost thou versify?"
I prosodize as I believe:
barely, lightly, persistently.

"And what hast thou done, ever, for Erato?"
Nothing. I've avaunted no gardes,
preached no revivals, made no rules.

"What elevates thy language?"
I compose in the middle way,
A puttanesca, rich and plain.

"Activist, or ars gratia artis?"
Neither. Ars gratia selfish
Or ars gratia non-self, that's it.

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