The Imagist was the bass player, the lead singer,
a student of Philip Larkin. The lead guitar
was a rhyming hack. The rhythm guitarist was a prose
poet all the way, and the drummer studied Milton—
an uncanny sound was made
by combinations of light combining in a revolving shade.
Solo poets are a thing of the past!
Now they band together, determined to make poetry last—
the voices different, a harmony of slow and fast.
Why hadn’t we thought of this before?
There shouldn’t be one poet—
just as there shouldn’t be one Door.
The college academic advisor
was an overworked psychiatrist for the girlfriends of Elvis.
He never saw Elvis. Elvis, the freshman, made his job easy.
Elvis never came around his office at all.
This is the kind of material the band wrote—
but you need to see the Larkins live!
A big arena is great, but when I was young,
I caught them in a dive.