At A Young Russian Girl's Nylons, 2; A Certain Kind Of Critic

At a young Russian girl's shoeless, shearsheathed feet,

a certain kind of critic

tries to scuttle the poem with conceit

in words scurrilous and acidic.


Suggesting that I fear a fair critique,

is, under one condition, fairly right.

I fear one written in that "schoolmarm-speak"

showing a limited experience;

and, only in this restricted sense

of verse, a little (as they call it) "lite."


By insults lacking teeth, I am not bitten;

and such critics' credentials are not proved.

Thus with each poem, I find it well behooved

to say, "What I have written, I have written."


I cannot raise great bridges or high pylons.

But I can still write verse that is no sham

(thanks for the teaching, J. V. Cunningham!),

to praise my Russian girl's love for her nylons.

And who dislikes it?---I DON'T GIVE A DAMN!


And comments that attempt to split or splinter

the poem I will remove, if I dislike

their tone.  Oh, how that furious Russian winter

addressed the goose-steps of Das Dritte Reich.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I learned correct rhyme from reading the poems of J. V. Cunningham a very great Poet whose is unfairly neglected in these days, some thirty years after his passing.  I only regret that I might have had the opportunity to communicate with him, and missed it, due to the incompetence of my college instructors in poetry.


For the second phrase of the nineteenth line, I had in mind the response of the judge, at the end of the trial, near the conclusion of the film Fried Green Tomatoes.


The phrase in italics in the last line is actually the title of a book by Arthur Moeller van den Bruck.  The title was appropriated by the Nazi party.

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