April 18, 1975
A poem by: Ben Dunk.
The monetary value of a completed poem is nil
or should be.
that is, I mean to say;
there should be no pay
But the true poem is priceless.
It is the ultimate gem
at the precise time of holding in your hand and saying:
I have done all I can to you.
You are the final glorified creation of my exacting efforts.
That poem is valueless in financial terms but,
it has immeasurable artistic value.
Treasure the beautiful perfection of it.
Clutch it to you and never let it go.
Store it in your heart and mind.
Place it in the strong room of your soul
to await the appraisal of posterity.