Tuesday, September 30, 2008


The Butcher Grew Gladiolas

The Appraiser composed poetry,
The Butcher grew gladiolas

in their sweat
left upon page, upon land,
the salt of the earth
rubbing shoulders
with haute couture
through poesy and posy

in their charge,
flowering ancestral beds
of Pound, Buck, Gibran

The Good Earth
turning through generations

The Prophet
inspiring a fortunate son

The Cantos
continuing here and on

and in no need of further appraisal,
simply cultivated like the sword lily I brandish
in defense of Aristotle's Poetics,
pulled from the rock of ages,
Excalibur passed on through bloom and verse

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