William Taylor Jr.

Something That Sings

There’s more truth in the silence of the dead
than in the next hundred poems you’ll have
the misfortune to read

seems like poets today can’t be 
bothered with the music of things 

their words half-clever
careful and stillborn

clamoring for praise
offering praise in return

with their poet beards
and poet hats

their poet boots weighed down 
with important things to say

I choose not to think of them

as I drink wine and watch
the women on Broadway

trying to translate their magic
into something that sings

as it all comes apart