5. Inflammatory Writ
oh, where is your inflammatory writ
your text that would incite a light be lit
our music deserving devotion unswerving
cried do I deserve her with unflagging fervor
well no we do not if we cannot get over it
but what's it mean when suddenly we're spent tell me true
ambition came and reared its head and went far from you
even mollusks have weddings though solemn and leaden
but you dirge for the dead and take no jam on your bread
just a supper of salt and a waltz through your empty bed
and all at once it came to me
and I wrote and hunched 'til four-thirty
but that vestal light it burns out with the night
in spite of all the time that we spend on it
one bedraggled ghost of a sonnet
while outside the wild boars root
without bending a bough underfoot
oh it breaks my heart I don't know how they do't
so don't ask me and ask for my inflammatory writ
well I wrote it and I was not inflamed one bit
advice from the master derailed that disaster
said hand that pen over to me poetaster
while across the great plains keening lovely & awful
ululate the last great american novels
an unlawful lot left to stutter and freeze floodlit
but at least they didn't run to their undying credit
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