Why Poem by Madrason .
Why
Why poets are shy.
Shylock what's in a name.
Why do they then cry
from Yawning Depths
to Wuthering Heights.
Why do they pointy-late
in consonants and footnotes
and sketch an unsaid Why.
Rilke steered my mares,
Vroman turned me in his cell
and Komrij protected my shell.
But What I needed
Was carefully heeded
in urges to mystify.
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4/23/2024 11:34:35 AM # 1.0.0.1119
