Technical Notes

Catullus is my master and I mix a little acid and a bit of honey in his bowl love is my subject & the lack of love which lack is what makes evil a poet must strike Catullus could rub words so hard together their friction burned a heat that warms us now 2000 years away I roll the words around my mouth & count the letters in each line thus eye and ear contend in- side the poem and draw its move- ment tight Milton thought rhyme was vulgar I agree yet sometimes if it’s hidden in the line a rhyme will richen tone the thing I most despise is quote poetic unquote diction I prefer to build with plain brown bricks of common talk American talk then set 1 Roman stone among them for a key I know Ca- tullus knew a poem is like a blow an impact strik- ing where you least expect this I believe and yet with me a poem is finally just a natural thing.