I was trying to find a scenario where the
poetic voice (for why should we assume it's Geary, Wager?) ends up _shooting_ the advice-requester, but my imagination is never that florid. Try this. It was published in NYC Big City Lit years ago, but it's a throwaway. "Lines Not Written To Handel" Shut up, says the door to the room. Listen to how music has toned poems: burbling spheres, effete lyres, defunct guitars, that eternal loudmouth nightingale, a wartime jukebox in its midtown dive, elegant rag, diamond stylus of the dead. Better to have engraved shotguns, carved looms, Ripe grapes bursting against a virgin’s palette, so If your chainsaw scrambles obbligato on greenwood, Fire it up anyway. We no longer write for mellow suites, But always find our song in noise. ------------------------------------------------------------------ To change your Lit-Ideas settings (subscribe/unsub, vacation on/off, digest on/off), visit www.andreas.com/faq-lit-ideas.html