The Man with the Blue Guitar V

Do not speak to us of the greatness of poetry,

Of the torches wisping in the underground,

Of the structure of vaults upon a point of light.

There are no shadows in our sun,

Day is desire and night is sleep.

There are no shadows anywhere.

The earth, for us, is flat and bare.

There are no shadows. Poetry

Exceeding music must take the place

Of empty heaven and its hymns,

Ourselves in poetry must take their place,

Even in the chattering of your guitar.