we who only dare to dream

modern day bards of mundane gravedig symphonic remains

of shakespeare and browning and joyce.

though dead be the brains, they frankenstein together remains-

tin pan alley through angel's voice.

upon zombied skeletons of metered rhyme and free verse

vacuous oft-told tales are bound -

motheaten ensembles which repeated wear make the worse  -

then gallishly term them profound.

pondering diff'rence between bottled-in-bond genius

(are artistes created or made?)

and shoveling poetic manure which is odius

(no matter what one calls this trade),

since mules cannot win derbys toiling sunup until morn

(pinstriped suited mutts are still dogs),

our inspired penning pantheon was undoubtedly born -

most of us plebians are hogs.

Copyright ©2002 Daniel Grey Taylor