Self-Blurb

These poems I’ve begotten
in my mind’s own Fallopians
are as silk is to cotton
or hope to utopians.

Of Fantin-Latour
they’re the verbal equivalents,
both bright and obscure
with a tender ambivalence.

They’re edgy and clever,
formal and right.
None could dissever
their wings from their flight.

Here verb meets noun,
with galvanic force!
Not likely you’ll come down
with buyer’s remorse.