For Hesiod                                    

Sing now, O Muse: not “wrath” nor “many tropes”;

contest not how “love’s fame” competes with Time.

Proud past attractions but attest vain hopes;

convince today, when play completes thy rhyme.

once wingèd words, then spoke, lie grounded now in print.

and “Rosencrantz and Guidenstern are dead.”

I would, O Muse, see sounds that spark and sprint,

words when crafted, wench, will still resound past said.

‘Tis just, that dust grows o’er the stale bookshelf,

for t’war to capture Helen now, who’d go?

“My love’s sweet face” is battlescarred itself.

I want, instead, live issues in my show.

For if bored bards of yore are yet of use,

‘tis but because their leaving let words loose.

(11/84)                                                        

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