Among twenty snowy pages
The only cutting thing
Was the eye of the parody.
I was of three minds,
Like a book
In which there are three parodies.
The parody slipped in among the editor's papers;
It was a small sabot in the machine.
A chalk and a blackboard
A chalk and a blackboard and an instructor are one
I do not know which to prefer,
The parody of inflections
Or the inflections of parody:
Or the whistling after.
Lines of cathartic broken prose filled the long page
With barbaric gas.
The shadow of a parody
Crossed and re-crossed my mind.
Traced in the parody
An inexplicable snicker.
Yo, gangstuh rappuhs, hip-hoppuhs n wannuh-be's,
Why yuh ice-cracks showz?
Dont-chuh see, duh pa-ruh-dee
Dissin yuh durdy hoze?
I know the sober, stately cadences of standard
English,Its friendliness to earthy, concrete words;
But I know, too,
That the parody is involved. . . .
When the parody was circulating,
It went around and around,
Cutting many circles.
At the counterpoint of the parody's
Open scoring on the page,
The hawkers of cacophony
Would gasp, aghast.
They overrode the country
In a million DJ vans;
They had no fears, no cares!
They never suspected
The parody would overtake them.
The crowd is streaming overhead,
The Mall slides by.
Somewhere a parody is hatching.
This Twilight has been a Dark Age
An Ice Age has descended,
Colder than glaciers.
A parody poises itself
Among the pages.