The form
of a poem is part of its meaning. Form’s
a way to get the poem written. Formalist
poets rely on form
to get from
beginning to end. Inventive poets alter form,
often they reform
form
or form
new forms.
I format
my iMac to transform
poems into sestinas, an old French form:
six end words repeat seven times each to form
thirty-nine lines. My poems are performances
of formal
and informal
experiment. In my formative
years I wore form-fitting
uniforms
or floriform
formless
dress. I refused to conform.
FYI
Here I’ve upped the ante, heightened form’s
challenge: Are there form
words enough to inform
this peculiar form
of sestina where every line contains form?
Some poets are misinformed.
Some poets are uninformed,
some, formidable,
formulate
and pour formulaic
verse into formaldehyde
vials aligned on Formica
platforms.
Not thirty-nine lines? A mere formality.