GENERATIONS Copyright (C) 1997 by Not Nice Music
II. A COLLECTION OF OBSCURITY by Edwin M. Drogin

47. Untitled

The grunting chattering vehicle
Grinds poor beauty into a dusty squeek
That barely gleams on a chance light
And causes ear and eye to seek.

Once found in a line, a paragraph,
Like darting tongues of green wave foam
To wet the mind and cool a fevered
Despair, a fitting home.

For true beauty in this mold
Is rare as a pleasing garbage heap
Much more likely to be putrid
and too incredible a lightning leap.

Oh beauty, how I yearn for accents
Conjuring all your overtones
Or even some, a mere sonnet of blue and gold
But nought of sighs and whispers, only moans,

And then the world cries. Forget in a petty
Play of minds, walking to vain pleasure
Content with baubles, breakable gems
Heaped high, always hiding true treasure.