Battalions roll in battle formation,
Past the Dear Reader’s reviewing station,
Rhetoric rumbling, thunder on the air,
Solid prose blocks on parade through the square.
The arguments pass in orderly ranks,
Clanking in oiled rows of well-armored tanks.
Where are the rest of the forces? Parades
Seem like the optimal time to invade,
To catch the tyrannical Dear Reader
While absorbed in playing at cheerleader
For this metaphysical might marshaled
By deserting poetry’s battlefields.
The columns march on, packed words goose-stepping
And gone, the Dear Reader soon forgetting.
Sunday, July 28, 2024
Reviewing the Troops
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