The Shout of Tom Goat @ elimae

I got 10 votes for my platform to pay poets to read. Did three readings that fall, then quit. Each got $50. That's where the word scared everybody to death. Thirty or 40 torn ears and bleeding toes. The word shout isn't capped in the text. I had heard it in the room once, at the top of his lungs. Scream shouted, universal world shouted... it was a scream for all the displaced maquiladores before they went back to their desks. Harriet Monroe said she would never to come to these things again. Then she wrote to Wallace, "change the text and leave out stanza 7." He acquiesced. But nobody said anything to the Tom. The shout built momentum. I heard it again over time. It woke me last night. Today I pick up the fragments of which I have maybe the only copy of ten made, and wonder why this collective stuff is not the stuff of which poetry is made. here