Why Poems are Doomed to Fail
Exactly why are poems doomed to fail?
What guarantees the stillbirth of their hopes?
Because the ones with breasts in them are pale
As holograms beside those truthful slopes,
The beauty that an ogee would capture,
If only it could? Might it be because
No sonnet can encapsulate the rapture
Of lovers locked in frenzy? Or that laws
Beyond divinity’s control forbid
Intrusion by a line of metaphor
(The way the superego foils the id)
Inside reality’s plutonium core?
..Yes, all of these and something yet more true.
No poem is a verity like you.
