All entries for Friday 12 December 2008

December 12, 2008

'WHY poetry?'– two bad answers to a sensible question.

Poetry- the palliative cure for an unknown disease; we treat every symptom as it turns up but never truly understand the cause, and never aim to defeat it- we may utilise the solution, but we’re in cahoots with the sickness all along.

You missed that lecture;
“What’s poetry to you?”-
twelve sleepscarred hands

choking plasticked moccas.
We didn’t understand,
though the usual braggarts

had it nailed: poetry
is a vacuum. Poetry
is that sort-of-tingle

in your stomach
that makes us special.
But this is Grabbist,

lands of low-slung hills
and infant remembrance:
boundaries of elm

trawling to the sea;
dipped and yoked
by the adult’s tongue.

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  • This is really good Jon. Nice understatement that subtly builds to an excellent final sentence. by on this entry
  • I like this a lot, you have a fast flowing style, I tend to get bogged down in describing everything… by Costa Del on this entry
  • this is excellent. by on this entry
  • Good work! I dont think I quite understand Sally, but I guess thats partly because it's all through … by on this entry
  • That Twain is such a tyrant… by Claire Trevien on this entry

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