Classic Poem

Generalization of Old World
caught in the plane's sweep. Look up!
sound makes memory after.
Dragging loss is violence; O ye
who suffer banishment, nourishment
grounded. Dearth 'tis. Rabble is
ordinary, a thing apart, the jackal
at play, toying with world's diamonds,
spittle aglitter. Laughter strewn,
down-compressed to mud. From whence
the swing and arc, blood's roar rose,
gave judder to the first step - before
the word, the wind in the word;
rabble speech was. In the beginning.