This Site, More Often Than Not

Oh, God. I've entered fairyland, and all around me
Mundane poets poison what had been good air
With censers swung so heedlessly, with fumes
Of poorly chosen words, with sounds attributed
To sights, with purple phrasing, simple gush.
I cough. I cannot stay in here. My father
Was an engineer. My mind is his. I want
My words to be hard-edged and structured
So they'll bear some weight. I've never liked
The smell of incense. I hate fairyland.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 129 times
Written on 2017-09-04 at 14:34

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