some princess must have made a golden promise to a frog somewhere
she didnt keep for Bob Dylan to get the Nobel Prize for Literature I muttered in my sleep
what part of the Emperor's New Clothes do they not understand
I would wash my hands of it if I could, being part Irish:
light a million votive candles say even that many more prayers
to understand how unaware of anything beautiful I find them to be
the keepers of this kingdom of literature near to the Irish Sea
may bluebirds, linnets, lapwings escape their cages all at once and make a racket
because a racket a racket is what this is.
oh Irish Times this is not tis. nor temperate nor wise.
I wonder now about the Fates;did they stop spinning
to sanction this winning
and have three words to bring you to your senses
in all the golden tenses:
WILLIAM. BUTLER. YEATS.
mary angela douglas 13 may 2021
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