Demiurge’s Doggerel

Dylan Madden | 30 July 2018

 

 

There may be truths beyond the reach

 

Of any single man,

 

Like intervals in ivory

 

No single hand can span.

 

 

 

Allow this to be true. Then I

 

Say, ‘Look what music Thought

 

Has made of the hand’s poverty:

 

Sufficient, is it not?’

 

 

 

Forbid this to be true? Then you

 

Tread thin, neurotic ice.

 

In my sight, all are rebels who

 

Say, ‘It does not suffice.’

 

 

 

 

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