Thursday, November 17, 2016


                    Throughout the dim-lit auditorium
                     In which the famous poet reads his work,
                     You’ll see a dim-lit glow of something dumb
                     Provoking on my face a rueful smirk:

                     A little sea of cell phones is the source
                     Of this mysterious, eerie radiance
                     Which nowadays we must expect perforce—
                     Against such rudeness there is no defense.

                     What must the poet think as he looks out
                     Upon his reverent, heads-down auditors,
                     Assuming that their thoughts are all about
                     The eloquence and wit that from him pours?

                          But such is the obtuseness of our world,
                          Oblivious when even pearls are hurled.