Blake as Fake

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

The Greeks refused to leave the grain of sand

Behind to soar to stars’ infinity.

It is as if they had a mindful gland

To fight against grand asininity.

It is as if each Doric cupping palm

Refused to hold the cosmos in a trap.

It is as if they had to play a psalm

Of logic sung against the East’s claptrap.

They could not, really could not see an hour

As stretched Eternity.  That wasn’t in

Their capablitities.  Their mind-full power

Was commonsense.  The rest of thought was sin.

  They recognized the world was round, not flat.

    The Eastern wisdoms were just so much splat.

© Phillip Whidden