Poems share alleles with Borscht Belt routines,
Old TV sitcoms, and newspaper
Or anecdote gets crammed in each bit,
The clock resets straight back to zero
To start the next, similar business.
Lyrics don’t work long character arcs,
Developments, or transformations.
It’s a different art that starts over
For another pratfall, another
Version of the one you’ve heard before,
Than is a romance that draws you on,
Than epics mounting singular worlds.
Poems lie recycling breaths, beats, days, nights.
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