Pecker. I envy writers skilled enough to compose formal poems who toss off sonnets or forms I scarcely can pronounce much less execute. So I set myself to writing a formal poem (and have yet to manage it seems). No matter the form I fail often by the first line to concoct anything presentable. I find my success hinges at this point on creating my own form, which I have done: a baganellestina, consisting of three stanzas, each of which must begin with the word pecker. The poem must contain the name of the form, baganellestina, at least twice. Each stanza must be composed of a different number of lines, in no case less than seven nor more than twenty-six. The first stanza should serve as an introduction to both the form and the poem itself. The second stanza should in some way indicate the structure and formal requirements of the poem, and the third stanza—which, like the two preceding it, should begin with the word pecker—ought to digress tangentially from the subject of the poem thus far, and while prolonged technical explorations of Indo-Syraic archaeology may inexplicably be juxtaposed with casual mention of data acquisition and the seven deadly sins, these latter may at no time be enumerated, nor shall revelatory details from the personal life of the poet be divulged. The poem must once and only once violate its own form and should in every case with a verb conclude.
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Poems from Other Days
September 2021
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