Wednesday, December 27, 2017


Poetry is a failure
Of the imagination
To escape its origins
In earlier poems,

Older imaginations.
I mean poetry tout court.
But so what? Life’s a failure
Of the imagination

To render moot extinction.
Failure’s what we have
To work with, our metier

As living, dying beings.
Poetry’s failure’s gorgeous
As scattered peacock feathers.

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