hail fellow well métier
a century anthologised by its poets’ potted biographies
signposted by the words they have shaved off their time’s
erudition expressed as the development of their oeuvre
métier genre or the preoccupation with what the subliminal
muscles of the mind can be pummelled into yielding as carrion
for the circling literary historians bent on consuming all on
the prairies and the tundras of flaxen words tumbling like brushwood
until down upon tired knees of a prey chased to exhaustion they are
consumed with no passion but for the marks of their last breaths
and the blood on talons that rip it all to shreds to drink of what
will satiate the avarice of a reader consuming but never giving
one cussed sod for the stones in the furrows of a poem’s turning
when a season draws due tallow and due resonance when
at the final yearning finds its peace just there
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