BOUND VERSE

                  Why verse should seek its liberty from beat,
                  Those meters we’ve for centuries enjoyed,
                  Then long, as well, from rhyming to retreat
                  As if by such sonorities we’re cloyed
                  I cannot comprehend, for what is left
                  Is tuneless and might just as well be prose
                  When of all rhyme and meter it’s bereft,
                  Devices to keep readers from a doze.
                  You know with formal verse you’re in a game
                  Perhaps like tennis with its lines and net
                  Where masters over centuries won acclaim
                  Impressing minds with verse they’ll not forget.
                       Why not, instead, enjoy the paradox
                       Of sonic pleasures that bound verse unlocks?

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