My Own Private Ulysses: Why Try Poetry?
Why Try Poetry?
Why James Joyce? That fight will just have to wait
For some other too soon happy hours.
One quatrain’s too slight for such stout debate.
Some brawls last past the hour Guinness sours.
First round, I punched up the formal essay,
Nothing too stiff, but strange, looping, and light.
The ref bounced me out to the alleyway.
Management barred me and sneered nighty-night.
From their dive they jeered and cheered my exile
With chins too week for my meek and mild prose.
Take a dive just to thrive? Not my style.
I asked, where’s no-holds-barred, anything goes?
Poetry’s what you can get away with.
So, now I juice on James Joyce and plead the fifth.
Subscribe and stay tuned for more eighty-sixed sonnets.
Same tuned-up time, same chin-down channel.
コメント