It Couldn’t Be Verse

Most of the time
The phrases don’t rhyme
The statements are terse
It couldn’t be verse

So carefully chosen
The words, I’m supposin’
I playfully nurse
Still it couldn’t be verse.

Like McKuen, R.D. Laing,
There’s no bite
There’s no dang
It’s toothless, a curse
Oh, it couldn’t be verse.

No tune, no June
No silvery moon
No haiku, no limerick
No nursery rhyme
No free verse rambling
Not this time.

Then it falls into place
Here’s the sound
Here’s the space

No, the whole thing’s perverse
Could it ever be worse?