The Prophet

[rayheinrich]

After much tyresome googling: I have effected, all without the
help of undue modesty, a creative explication of your odeous olio
(sans poached pachyderm). It was Childe's play.

If your interpretation comes anywhere near mine, I'd consider
the damn thing a good poem except for the last line-and-a-quarter
(which my interpretation excludes).

"Tomorrow I will wake to blindness, rise, and tread my eyes
into the dirt."  

Inserting old movie clichés into a poem, even when intended as
homage or oblong irony, is pretty lame dude.

But, excepting for the fact that it ends the poem, it's really just a nit.



P.S.
Princess Dido from Tyre was a rarity,
Her bum Carthage's source of prosperity;
A maximal flat
Was obtained when she sat,
Her posterior proved her posterity.


P.P.S.  
Pentodes are noisy
Triodes are sweet
But power corrupted
Now they're obsolete