To declaim the universal is tantamount to proclaiming the individual. Unless my logic is faulty, we’re now better able to understand the poor state of poetry in the dis-United States. Being poet first, logician second, the following epigram is two years older than the logical proposition in the preceding sentence!
Turned inward like a bad toenail is the mind’s eyeball,
an unblinking cyclops ready to light me up –
like a bored cop at the intersection of reflect and write.
an unblinking cyclops ready to light me up –
like a bored cop at the intersection of reflect and write.
p.s. I was chatting with the a couple local cops while taking the long view of mourners arriving at Donald Hall’s funeral. When a car sped past, by way of an order to a subordinate, one cop said to the other “light ’em up!”
p.p.s. This appears as “v.homeric” in Fakir’s Dozen Ways of Looking at Stuff.