Friday, March 22, 2019


Why should anyone compose,
Under compulsion,
The way people actually
Spoke as the composer lived?

If a poet wants to be
Archaic, abstruse,
Or entirely inhuman

Why not let the poor soul be?
Imagine it’s your weather
Those alien words describe,

A cold winter late
From a mild winter early,
A spring in a spate
Of high clouds that you hurried.

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