The Tyranny of the Poem
It will never end
You will never be alone again
Beware
Everybody’s hand on the big pencil
Pushing out the first letter
Of the first word of the poem
Then go on from there
Go ahead
Go on into the theater
Never to return to this poem
Yet the poem waits for you
Right here where you left it
It is the tyranny of the poem
You can leave the poem
But the poem will never leave you
You will never be alone again
My Man Lev
You postered the university with handouts stating there would be a poetry reading
You have no idea how long I had been looking at that wall waiting for that poster to appear
And I was early at Forlini’s Third Phase but I of course no one was there till the start“Where is the poetry reading” No other students showed. It was the Disaffected Poets.
Downstairs is the poetry reading. Way down there
In the pawpaw patch
My poems came fast then
They wrote themselves about feet and girls and boys and rocket ships and dogs
I heard you read so effortlessly humane and present. I wanted to write like you
So I wrote for you and things fell into place
Now you come to my place and we share a beer, it’s sweet the way the poetry
Rolls like long hair over such big ears we have
So much poetry the world stands at attention
We’ll sit at ease
Life’s a breeze
Don Lev's word is “Hyn”
The way you gave it to Fidel Castro and Putney Swope on the Harlem street corner
Hynglorious! Hynalicious!
Hyn!