The Innisfree Poetry Journal

by John Milbury-Steen


Prufrock thought that he was missing something
and made the yearning into one great drama,
a galaxy of many a shiny crumb
filling up our telescopes to sing
the music of the spheres of something wrong.
Prufrock was stalled, but how he played his theme!

He ran an orchestra on what he lacked!
Imagine!  To say that every day I walked
in public with a fat ripe peach about
Brighton beach, weighing gain and hurt,
making it a thing of such import,
the question being should I eat or not,

Dantean ghosts converged for the debate
and angels hung on learning if I ate!

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