yet still
the frame eludes,
iambs refusing to form
despite their basis
in common tongues.
i can form no meter,
force no thoughts
to follow form
as tidily as they should,
as i would be glad to push them in.
instead perhaps i will have to carve away,
minimizing,
puling endstopped lines,
heroic couplets
out of my already present poetry,
or else
disregard past examples
and be considered
undisciplined.
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