Symphony #1
I’d like to say I write symphonies;
choral epics for unpitched voices,
colossal heart-snagging uppercuts
that lift like Scorpion fatalities
and hang readers breathless in
Tolkien-sized meat lockers.
I’d like to say I cut antique wars into
line-stone effigies, that are
not Alexandrine in iambs
but in three-five-six-BCs and
seventeen-seventy-six-ADs and
haughty, histrionic,
historic tethers.
I’d like to say I write works of
panorama and spectacle---symphonies,
ballads, metric opera magna---
but never anything as straight and
simple as poetry. Indeed;
call it verbal rapture, dictated
cataclysm, monolith and
temple of rhyme, but I have
never written and will
never write a poem.
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