or
(rather!)
an antipoem aping the indifferent, noisy, opaque, dark
ground whence true poetry figures forth like a comet -
do I practice
or merely pastiche
critique
(doodling over a doodle as it were
tonguing an absent flute)?
or
(rather!)
an antipoem aping the indifferent, noisy, opaque, dark
ground whence true poetry figures forth like a comet -
do I practice
or merely pastiche
critique
(doodling over a doodle as it were
tonguing an absent flute)?