A NonSoviet Artist's Reply To Just Inane Criticism

Quotation of posted words, that you did not originally post, without attribution . . .


Personal remarks that, in my opinion, skirt the edge of slander . . .


At least one other piece of writing (one hesitates to call it a poem) that appropriates a word, even a concept, from some of my poems (which I removed to avoid the association of any of my poems with your, uh, postings) . . .


As for comments, if you wanna make' em on my stuff, have at it, pal.  But be prepared for any reply I might care to make.  Make whatever comment you want; I think that will actually, by the paradox of negative example, enhance the poems.  But be prepared for any reply I choose to make.


Sound fair . . . Comrade?



Author's Notes/Comments: 

Lest my former friend, or anyone else, accuse me of plagiarism, the title is an allusion to the epigraph that Dmitri Shostakovich affixed to his Fifth Symphony.  (I have been aware how to attribute since I was in tenth grade, back in the days of the dinosaurs.)


I apologize to those who have already viewed this poem, with its typos.  I am a poor keyboardist, an even poorer proofreader, and I am presently afflicted with ill health.  I believe I have removed all the typos and omission now.


Some hours after posting the prose, I deleted a comment that descended to the personal, rather than engaging the words.

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