school-books and
business documents
aren't poetry
except in the
hands
of newly
minted MFA's
who write
the half-epics
no one reads.
Even poems are not
poetry
anymore
Ms. Moore.
Utterances
perhaps
sent forth
by those MFA's
Looking
for
the power &
respect
accorded
their brethren MBA's.
But no one
I can find
writes a line
of poetry
anymore
Ms. Moore.
I blame
the war
on rhyme.
Not that
not to rhyme
is a crime
except
when it is.
I read from them
such utter
stale lines
but at least
they don't rhyme.
The MFA
must abhor
the unprocessed
word
of such a
bore
as I.
The ruminant MFA
must
regurgitate
to chew again
before he
takes to pen
Only then
can he strip
rhyme
from the cud
of the line.
While such as I
just spit,
a line
and there it
sits
and rhymes.
No udder
to hold
such important thoughts
that at a
minimum
must an MFA defend.
No school-book
to recommend
the rhyme
No business
to grant
the material
for the
well-chewed cud.
No genuine, Ms. Moore,
enters the temple
where the MFA
recites her thesis
too literal.
12/01/10
No comments:
Post a Comment