poem 1635 A phone call at the wrong moment and the poem Is gone. People wonder why I sound annoyed on The phone. What I really want to say is WHY??? WHY AT THAT PRECISE MOMENT??? But of course I don’t, the Caller would never understand, and the blame is Misdirected anyway. It’s the way of the World, it’s a way of life. Many brief glimpses but Never a settled examination. Clues, but Never a conclusion. What was I going to Say? I don’t know, I may never know, it has been Stolen – the perfect crime; the one no one knows was Committed – and cast into the oubliette of Unrecorded thought. Nonetheless, wicked Lethe,* There is still a verse about forgetting the verse. *pronounced “lay-tay.”
Posted on: Fri, 25 Jul 2014 17:25:17 +0000
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