Not
Glorious rolling lines
And rising ends
In verse and song
Of absolute necessity
No,
Keep down,
Keep to just rarity.
The cycle turned
Around
Screamed
The wheel
As it was turning.
In the old monastery
Amidst Gregorian chants
Of middle night
Of Silence,
Incense was burning
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I can't follow this poem. The flow of poetic speech is interrupted several times, so I can't tell what the overall impression is. But I'll say this: If one of the points you're making is declaring a lack of faith in the ELOQUENCE OF POETIC SPEECH, that is, GLORIOUS ROLLING LINES, no, do not abandon what you have done so well for so long. This expressiveness drew me to your poetry back in winter, as in the Barge poem, which carries a tragic, even pessimistic vision but in language that asserts the wonder, truth and beauty of our human voice - YOUR HUMAN VOICE. Never lose faith in that voice within you, Emmanuel, it's a blessing you share with all.