|
| |
Rupture - Apr 22
Attempt, attempt, attempt, I try, I do,
but find success a frightful,fretful sort
of creature.—.landing always just so short
for you,—my victories?: far less than few.
From void to verse then verse now void,—but you
reject my voice,else’y*u[ / , u ]d*stort
it, and to good will ill intent impart;
My inspiration, skewered by your view,
lies fallow in your lap.—Tell, what’s the use
of baring open heart and mind and soul
when evil’s understood the sole (and whole)
ground of my poetry? — — rather a noose
than these restraints!, ach! and the love you reek
of, it struggles with my fine nose. I speak.
Copyright ©
X F Lacasse
|
|