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Wednesday, October 3, 2012

A Slightly Longer Version of A Short Poem About Poetry

I wrote the first few stanzas of this poem a few days ago.  You can read the prior version as the immediately preceding entry on my blog.  And I just couldn't leave well enough alone.  This afternoon I added a few more stanzas as you'll see below, for better or worse I have no idea... 

It's not so much
A matter of trochees
Or synedoche
Not that they're

But my primary
Concern is how a poem
Sounds when it falls
Upon the inner ear
Whether composed
While walking the dogs
Around the block
Or at home alone
With Artie Shaw
In the background

For me
Words unspoken
By the breath
Carry the purest
Possible sound
That can be best
Understood only after
Writing them down

And the task for
Any true poet
Remains ever
The same --
To capture and
Apply simple truths
Across the broadest
Possible frontier

As one or two
Will almost always suffice
To preoccupy even
The most aesthetically
Afflicted human spirit
Whether it’s a great big
Bearded Literatus
Like Whitman
Or a sickly neurasthenic
Like Proust

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