Blank Verse Sonnet Dialogue

Jones:    When last, if ever, did you speak in verse?
Smith:    Like normal speech, like talking to a friend?
Jones:    Or when did you last count the rhythm’s flow
To measure out the feet?
Smith:                                         The feet?
Jones:                                                       You hear
how odd it sounds to use the terms we use
in papers where we write of poets who
are dead, who have no meaning for our day.
Smith: The foot.
Jones:                 The great iamb.
Smith:                                          The noble word
which pulses through the language of our veins.
Jones:  They say it has a rhythm like our hearts.
Smith:  Bullshit!  It beats itself to death.  It drones
and drones, and only hints at what it means.
Jones: The hint of “that within which passeth show?”
Smith: The “backward masking” used so long ago.

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