A Poem For the Edification of Lit Cogs

A Poem for the Edification of Lit Cogs


Intellectually I sharpen from constant
collision with the established-order—its
myriad components and ubiquitous legions
of abnegating proponents.

“I agree with much of what you're saying,”
wrote one such editor,* who then
proceeded to argue that what I was saying
was actually “rant” and “sour grapes.”

But how could an intelligent person agree
with that, I wondered, bringing it to
his attention, though in vain;
besides, why should the literary agora
be open only to sweet grapes?

“But if your tone is anything like your
tone here, I wouldn't be interested in it,”
he stated with regards another critical
proposal of mine.

Thus, my approach was off, my tone wrong,
and of course my taste not in good taste
at all.
But was Villon’s verse written in
the right tone or
Solzhenitsyn’s prose or Bukowski’s or
how about Thomas Paine’s?
Was his written in good taste?

But to that, the constituent simply
closed the debate
with a curt “good luck
with the browbeating.”

The logic dies, as all too often it
does

with

diehards.


G. Tod Slone



*C.L. Bledsoe, editor of Ghoti Magazine

Posted over on The American Dissident