Author Information
Complaint About The Town Criers
Poetry should follow a more artistic intent
than the shrill reportage of a recent, notorious event;
more than the propoganda of editorial opinion;
more than the shifting vagaries of political dominion.
Poetry should speak and minister to the very soul,
rather than some loud rant caught between the push and pull
that jerk us about---wars and rumors of wars---
and our temporary bandages on permanent wounds and sores;
in your ears and your face, assertions beyond recanting,
that are merely occasions for some old knitter's ranting.
Poetry should faithfully follow a sacred and higher
calling than being merely another town crier,
writing in some verbal web or stomping upon a log,
whose swampy thoughts are as convuluted as a bog.
So we remind you again, Citizen Robespierre:
though your conniptions have caused our nation shipwreck;
and though, around your ravings, chaos swirls and prevails,
we---as Poets of poetry---categorically, adamantly refuse
to construct in epic format the unremarkable details
of how your broken-jawed head has been severed from your neck;
that has no spiritual meaning and is lost in yesterday's news.
Starward
