3 responses

  1. My last posted poem was me as 10-year-old hunter. This one, written about 11 years ago, is me as 10-year-old legal theorist. The intimation of a law degree is artistic artifice, although I did take one undergraduate class in constitutional theory. Does the technique adequately modulate the rave to redeeming unity? Thanks


    When I was ten so many people were begging for survival
    I nipped it in the bud and let imagination work instead
    I fed the Warren Court through a wood chipper, as if,
    By dream, the red cartilaginous spray would save us.
    But really not, and for 30 years I studied where its minds
    Came from and ours, in Yale’s best Constitution classes and so forth
    And so forth. For 30 years I did, with these brainy termites’ brains
    Take up, the slather on and clutter up, in theory’s wiles but
    Still in vain to find a wisdom to excel
    The simple perspicacity of ten.


  2. Then I’ll hold it till I’m absolutely positive I’ve established myself as heir to Stevens and Frost. Reading through my archive yesterday, I note that while my sound sense is as good as Tennyson’s, a certain monotony prevails after a point as in “here he goes again with that.” Plus the recurring, charging, self-absorbed existential critique could probably use more counterpoints of redemption—i.e., a “The Road not Taken.” Maybe if I imagine the South WON the Civil War???


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: