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 Title   [ Click any title below to view poem ]Category Date
 The Hieratic Head - Ezra Pound Misc 2/21/2014
 February Light Nature 2/12/2014
 Morning Prayer (Terzanelle) Villanelle 2/11/2014
 Zombie Love Villanelle 2/11/2014
 Outside My Window ( Rondeau ) Misc 2/7/2014
 High Wind Today ( A Rondeau ) Misc 2/7/2014
 Around, around - ( Rondeau ) Misc 2/5/2014
 The Slant of January Light Triolet 2/3/2014
 The Songs I Sing Triolet 2/3/2014
 An Emptiness Misc 2/3/2014
 Not About You Song Lyrics 2/3/2014
 Illusion Song Lyrics 11/1/2013
 The Long Commute Misc 10/11/2013
 First Star Misc 10/11/2013
 I Dreamt of Her Again Life 6/28/2013
 Half-light Cowboy Poems 6/26/2013
 Cocoon Misc 6/21/2013
 Office - (a rondeau variant) Misc 5/1/2012
 On the Flats Misc 4/30/2012
 Cloudburst Misc 4/30/2012
 Maybe Today Misc 4/25/2012
 Receding Challenge Poems 4/25/2012
 A Talent for Yearning - Terzanelle Villanelle 4/23/2012
 On Hearing an Old Song Misc 4/12/2012
 It Slips Away (Rondolet) Misc 4/11/2012
 These Hollow Words Misc 4/11/2012
 As April 15 Approaches (Triolet) Triolet 4/10/2012
 She Comes to Mind (Rondolet) Misc 4/10/2012
 She Spins the Story Yet Again Triolet 4/10/2012
 I'll Find My Wings (Rondeau) Misc 4/9/2012
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The Hieratic Head - Ezra Pound

Holding court at Saint Elizabeth's, surrounded
by cadres of old friends and sycophants
pretending to be mad
too much time on his hands,
in a soft asylum.

Traitor to his country (not his country -
his region of origin - long since fled)
a pleasant interlude
in the shadow of a hangman's noose
he threw pretentious picnics
with stolen lunatics' bread.

Sheltered from his gray wife and his mistress
from always-neglected offspring of the unions
while academics, poets, fascist, racists
did pilgrimage to venerate his ravings.

An archetype for the modern (no, POST modern)
intellectual, destructive
(no DE-constructive)
who crafts a shield of recondite arcana
rococo ornaments for mindless loathing.

Hate your small town roots - rage at the Babbitt
at semi-rural morés
you never understood
contempted - pause and nibble at the apple
savoring its superficial knowledge
with eyebrow raised - so desperate in impressing
an avant guarde that never quite advances.

And die an old child staring in mid-distance
at nothingness of permanent adolescence
an uncomprehending lapsing into silence
in despairing contemplation
of an hieratic head.

An occasional turn of phrase that is quite charming
in a life-time of pretentious, senseless blather
and a selling out your country, friends and family
for the adoration of the Europeans.

Such is post-modern life the superficial
exaltation of the unchained ego
a tasting of an apple
that's never half-digested
regurgitated in chunks with bile and acid.

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