#130 Kevin Brophy 'Apparently'

#130 ‘Apparently’

You can’t write poems about time any more.

You can’t write poems about mirrors any more

You can’t write meta-poems about poetry any more

You can’t write poems about cats dogs or frogs any more

You can’t write poems about God, or god either any more

You can’t write poems in praise of fiery sunsets or dawns any more

You can’t write poems with punctuation any more or capitals any more

You can’t write poems about yourself or your coterie of friends any more

You can’t expect a poem’s retreads not to be bald by the final stanza any more

You can’t write poems that leak, weep and stumble about blind with grief any more

You can’t expect a poem to be loyal to you or even to quote you correctly any more

And you can’t write poems that keep spilling like ground-cover gone to seed across

    the sacred line break like some prose hungry memoir any more—