Canto CCLXVI

Just for the record, I’ve not seen the link
between artistry and Bohemia
where wild types never quite escape the stink

of patronage. Give me the sturdier
genius of a Stevens, may he brood
on my bookshelf if dull suburbia

becomes my spawning pool, may Wetherspoons
protect me from the five pound pints of Soho,
and I can surmise that a Bexley moon

is still the self same moon that killed Li Po.

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One Comment (+add yours?)

  1. peter litton
    Aug 31, 2012 @ 00:23:26

    Wallace Stephens the American poet?

    Reply

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