by Ezra Pound
I am a grave poetic hen
that lays poetic eggs.
And to enhance my temperament
A little quiet begs.
We make the yolk philosophy
True beauty the albumen.
And then gum on a shell of form
To make the screed sound human.
A lyric poem, typically one in the form of an address to a particular subject, written in varied or irregular metre.
Oxford English Dictionary
To Ezra Pound
by T. A. Fry
For your convictions, not the least of which
Was treason: by what do I measure you?
Was it romance or reason that carved your niche?
An Imagist, whose chant was Make it New.
The unkept vagrant of rebellious screed,
Who Frost declared, “wanton and a poseur.”
Should I forgive your racist, fascist deeds
In lieu of your roiled poetic allure?
Pound for Pound, man’s the most fallible beast.
My own past mocks in brilliance and despair.
If our life is but A Moveable Feast*?
Let’s hope the worst is not beyond repair.
And with words, left to time, an image paint,
The truth of it; both serpent and a saint.
*Pound and Hemingway were long-time friends who both lived in Paris during the period Hemingway wrote A Moveable Feast. The reference in the sonnet is an acknowledgement to shared passions and demons. Hemingway lobbied for Pound’s release from the insane asylum where he was incarcerated for treason in the United States from 1945 – 1957. Read my prior blog post, Make it New, for more stirrings on Ezra Pound.
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