Sir Thomas Beecham
Can I write poems that are
perfectly quiet?
What people hate about poetry is the barking.
If I wrote a book of perfectly quiet poems, everyone would buy it.
What people hate about poetry is the barking.
If I wrote a book of perfectly quiet poems, everyone would buy it.
It would be like writing on the
sky—not like
those white-smoke-pooping Cessnas rolling and banking,
but like a huge celestial marker wiping everything quiet
those white-smoke-pooping Cessnas rolling and banking,
but like a huge celestial marker wiping everything quiet
(but you can’t spot it from the
airport).
It would be like nature itself, demure but feisty—
Put Diana herself in your book, everyone will buy it
It would be like nature itself, demure but feisty—
Put Diana herself in your book, everyone will buy it
and you’ll be rich enough to
dwell year-round at the Hyatt—
no, that would be sharky
(though a shark’s teeth may gleam and be perfectly quiet).
no, that would be sharky
(though a shark’s teeth may gleam and be perfectly quiet).
I hope you’ll think my book is
a laugh-riot,
but if you read it you’ll hardly feel you’re harking
back to the primal silence—so, nah, don’t buy it,
but if you read it you’ll hardly feel you’re harking
back to the primal silence—so, nah, don’t buy it,
but thanks for allowing my wish
to croon in public!
My voice puts an unkillable drone on silence
so the songs in my book-of-dreams can never be quiet—
they ding like a typewriter bell, groan like the Cyclops.
My voice puts an unkillable drone on silence
so the songs in my book-of-dreams can never be quiet—
they ding like a typewriter bell, groan like the Cyclops.
