new old kid on the blog,
with an occasional
old or new poem written off
the old writer's block
Picturing poetic genres as congenial vagrants, with whom we may have more in common than might at first have been suspected, is a pleasure.Epic meant well.Lyric held its tongue.And look at them now.
Two alley cats allied against Tin Pan Alley? :>)
Yes, so it sounds from the caterwauling on the back fence. Or is that just two hungry tabbies in modal time?Tin Pan Alley always owned the music, and ownership just means real estate, and real estate is always for sale.(Someone is yowling that ownership has latterly passed into the hands of the academic trust, but how are two alley cats to know about such things? And... -- ow! -- it seems now they've even electrified the fences!)
Yeah, your link says it all: "Everything can be bought for a song."