deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Reading Life
The reading life is filled with sin.
You quake in your confessional,
knelt before the grille,
telling Shakespeare’s priest
you’ll read a German master soon,
a thesis on the hallowed spits of time
on which we all roast.
But, you see, there I go again.
Bringing up grotesquerie.
Not getting tight on anything
but pulp; detective stories,
horror books, things with lurid covers and
a rote but pleasing plot.
Know this, at least:
in his day, Shakespeare too
was jeered at by the Bards,
because his blank verse lacked
the smell of polished pine,
reeking of pulp instead.
You quake in your confessional,
knelt before the grille,
telling Shakespeare’s priest
you’ll read a German master soon,
a thesis on the hallowed spits of time
on which we all roast.
But, you see, there I go again.
Bringing up grotesquerie.
Not getting tight on anything
but pulp; detective stories,
horror books, things with lurid covers and
a rote but pleasing plot.
Know this, at least:
in his day, Shakespeare too
was jeered at by the Bards,
because his blank verse lacked
the smell of polished pine,
reeking of pulp instead.
Published 24th Aug 2021
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Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
25th Aug 2021 00:41am
26th Aug 2021 3:20am
Damn straight! There's inspiration to be found in what mainstream considers tawdry. This is a perfect description of that, Jack.
