The silent dog bites;the barking dog runs.
—a local proverb (free translation)
Here come the poets mmmm
upon pens so remot mmmmmm
e from knowledge mmmmmmmm ( e . c . h . o . e . s )
m m m m m m m m m
m m m m m m m m
m m m m m m m
m m m m m m
m m m m m
m m m m
m m m
m m
m
unlike the warrior the poet doesn’t think of
enemy lines though he roams about in exclamations—
while one soldier stalks . . . here climbs a belfry
for a better sight a proper knowledge of where
to shoot. the poet shadows an enemy line entirely
different, in a war of trying to get the print to
kill you, his enemy quite unseen. ho-hum.
whereas the warrior now sees the enemy camp,
the ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
poet still snipes for imagery in polemic subject-
predicates, structures, tones, and so on . . . with
a blind sight. and so on, and so on, and so on, and
so,
when the warrior dies
blood drips from open mouth,
a shriek from a TV scene viewer.
the poet dies in bed silence,
too much lost through unneces-
sary sermons ‘n’, oh you know
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ?
—23 Oct.--23 Nov. 1990
