Mnemony
Poetry is at the heart mnemonic.
The ears, the mouth, the brain, but something sonic
Etches certain sounds from out the din,
The patterned words are easier to say again,
And that's what poetry has always been.
Today we wrongly call our poets those
Who excise patterns, losslessly compressing prose.
Since published books preserve their printed word,
They think mnemony's become absurd,
And poetry is rarely heard.
In times like these, good memories are fleeing,
And here we see the stress of modern human being,
Plagued by verbal information overload
Into brutal economic data storage mode,
Deletes the unproductive poems node.
But antique patterned wordforms are the key
To claiming poem space in modern memory.
Repeated mnemes raise retentivity,
Thus it's foolish to abandon mnemony.
We come full circle with our poetry.
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