Anatomy Class (by Jerry Siegel)
(To My Freshmen, with Apologies to
Northrop Frye)
Ah.
There
it is:
A
still-living poem.
Some
critic or teacher must have
Done
this to it.
Put
it on the table, boys.
Gently,
now.
Check
for vitality,
Analyze
the theme,
Examine
its metaphors,
Lay
bare the quivering imagery
And
expose the throbbing
Thought.
Let’s
see that history.
Two
hundred years old?
No
wonder it seems in
Rough
shape.
As
you can see, the relevance is clearly herniated.
Diction?
Grossly inefficient.
Impossibly
high allusion level.
There!
Between
the varicose values.
Just
as I suspected!
A
great mass of dense meaning
Complicated
by a massively conscious rhythm.
There’s
nothing to be done about it.
Hopeless
–
Not
a chance of reconstructing this one
Into
useful lyrics
Or
a slogan.
Close
it up
And send it off
To the anthology.
____________________
(A found poem, written
sometime in the mid-1970’s, by a young professor)
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