Ode to John Ashbery

 

A man without music–cumulonimbus,

Opens in daylight. A job is a job. Everything else

Is of or pertaining to the dead (which

Has much of irony, little of melody)

But he sells it. Light and form

Sell almost anything

Though its not fashionable to say so,

Even in the arts.

I wish for allotropic precision but

Get Impressionism at least

Most days which is one of the

Tributaries of poetry.

A poem is grazing on the graves

We care about–