Saturday, June 6, 2015

Pilloried


. . .the poet— 
brats in the street fling shit at him. . .

--George Seferis, “Three Secret Poems” 


As a matter 
Of course he viewed 
His art as nothing 
To be jeered at, 

Yet whoever had 
Put together that 
Display of words 
And set it down 

Without even once 
Having thought 
Twice about how 
It would be received— 

Should not that hapless 
Spectacle of self be rewarded 
With poesy of like kind left 
To fend for itself like that? 



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