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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