for william carlos williams
once at false dawn while riding my bicycle
comets streaked across a pink & azure sky.
art has agency; only god disposes!
if i took apart my bicycle like a
poet takes apart a sonnet, rondeau or
villanelle & counted parts like lines of verse,
cleaned them up, oiled them all like sexy rhyme –
reassembled them. would it perfectly work?
if i take apart that pink & azure sky
would i murder it, dissect it like a frog;
change it unpredictably & for the worse?
© Joseph McNair; 2009
No comments:
Post a Comment