30 September 2008


It is the last refuge of hedonism – as
convenient as writing laudatory memos
praising yourself and answering them
with unctuous thank-yous. So who do
you think we think you’re fooling?

It may not be fantasy in your opinion,
who knows best? Writing praise reflects
both ways – like a feral hog writes a fair
poem and we say... amazing! Saying less
is utterly prejudiced, more, uncharitable.

Yet you reach greater heights! Epithets
flow like counterfeit champagne – pearls
cast that malign are equally germane:
well done... compressed in few... lovely...
It says... that’s barely contained bleech.

Yet logic threads manic needles lost in
hayrick sanity; there is bread and fishes
in your largesse, much wine in amphorae
blessed with soporific gifts – we are pleased
you came pissy-eyed to poetry gladly.
© 19 July 2008, I. D. Carswell