SF (June 17 1942 / Troy New York)

The Poet Became A Prisoner Of His Need For A Poem

THE POET BECAME A PRISONER OF HIS NEED FOR A POEM

The poet became a prisoner of his need for a poem
And so he lost his ability
To make and to know a true poem.
A poem became
A cliché of himself
And every line he wrote said
“You are a poor poet
Stop insulting us all
With your absence of silence.”

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