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Edited on Wed Jan-09-08 09:34 PM by BlueIris
"Aren't You Famous Yet?"
Still on the train to the Big Time hadn't you better get off at a station any station so long as it has a town where people spend their lives in hard work and chicanery and love and chicanery and all those other things most folks gossip about, any town with its people worth knowing and talking to instead of you inking verse on vellum? You know, verse out of the blue?
Or at least unpack your belongings and settle in your seat awhile get used to the undignified energy that hurtles you and your poesy to—let's face it— the Outer Unknown Township (OUT), even as you ignore being in the world beyond yourself. A world of fields with horses deep in thought backyards hoarding secrets storied steeples that ignore you back as you dismiss your dozing fellow passengers (their sitting-on-their-hands) when they could be applauding your significant pose swaying there mid-aisle.
Okay, you know it's prolix spring a time for yawning speeches laurels and wreathes of various kinds: Parnassian trophies in green and gold. It's dazzling, isn't it? You think one or two of those babies isn't your due? Listen, don't be fooled. That bad boy Catullus could tell you a thing or two about life in the Big Time not to mention Propertius. And Rimbaud—Look what Paris did to him! Or was there some give and take there? You're more the eclogue type, anyway. Of course that's just one of your problems. (Refer to chicanery above. Refer to OUT above.) If only you could scale back your lofty, I don't say out-of-date, ambition if only you could see your way to a degree of humility. Not a lot just enough to cut others and yourself some slack. Maybe even add a touch of color to your poet's black kit— I guess I dig the beret— or change your ensemble entirely. That'd be significant. More than a fashion statement a real change leading to an honest— I do mean it—question: Did you catch the right train?
—James Griffin
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