Singing Potatoes
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Monday, 18 November 2002
I had a dream, which was not all a dream.

When it comes to art, I'm ultraconservative. Music should sound pleasing to the ear, and have some discernable form and structure. Paintings should display actual skill, not be mere random splatters of paint or pencilled moustaches on a lithograph purchased out of a museum store. Sculptures, likewise, should demonstrate that the sculptor possesses more talent than the mere ability to weld random pieces of metal together.

And to me,
A poem should be more
Than sentences dissected
Into tiny fragments.

Occasionally, though, I'll make exceptions. Byron's Darkness doesn't rhyme, the meter falters in a couple of places, and the whole thing is just seven enormous run-on sentences (well, except for the first line, which is a sentence unto itself). Nevertheless, the language he uses is so evocative that I consider it a great poem.

Posted by godfrey (link)
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