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The title falls down to the bottom
when you set out to write an upside-down poem.
It doesn't really matter if it's spring or it's autumn,
the day disappearing like sweet breath in the gloam.
When you set out to write an upside-down poem,
just plan on getting a boatload of flak.
You'll see your career fading into the gloam.
But once you begin you can't turn back,
no matter how many containers of flak.
The rhymes forge ahead, the stanzas hold their course,
and now the poem won't let you turn back.
Remember that old saw about staying on the horse:
stanzas forging ahead, rhymes holding course—
in the face of adversity the poem remains strong.
It has no intention of falling off that horse.
And now here you are, saying you planned it all along:
not a title in sight and still holding strong.
Screw the conventions, your career in its autumn—
poets, partisans: they can all get along