Tuesday, January 26, 2016

No Effect

So much of what I write has no effect,
And I have seen my failures rise and fall:
Too often have I sat up at the call,
Then slumped again, when failure to detect
A reigning purpose, or a phrase elect,
Or any spark of imagery at all,
Has blinded me to splendour and to gall,
To night, and to the moonlight I neglect.

When wisdom fails, I pick a while at scabs;
I contemplate my stumbles and my flops,
The scattered wreckage of the stillborn years.
Then suddenly the dead quake on their slabs,
The wastelands ring with howlings and with yawps,
The verbal gnats crawl, whining, through my ears.

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