In the Lone Ranger movie Lord Grade madePROLOGUE ALTERNATE
the "William Tell Overture" wasn't played
until well into the second hour.
Plus, you saw him sans mask in "Legend of..."
These omissions spelled box office disaster.
Irk not the fans! Defy no expectations!
Like may some mourn the sparseness so far
of fight scenes in this, and say, "The costume
doesn't come in until the denouement?!"
or, "A whole book to get him off the farm!?"
Perhaps they deserve an explanation.
Mayhap, then, before my story I resume,
let me reveal the paramount concerns
that have gone into writing this.
(Caveat, reader: Any real literary truth
conceals itself from one so unimportant
as the author of a work.)
Figuratively born sightless, dumb, and deaf,
this poet, near the quarter mark of life,
implored Heaven for an interpretation.
-- How to treat it, for it must be
significant, this four-color
epic which, on a sleepless night
two generations before mine,
flowed from Jerry Siegel's lips
as they quivered with glee
and sparked Joe Shuster's urge
to sketch, finally freeing
his raw creativity?
No answer came. I wondered
at how silent they had been,
those proud Jovan children,
on this topic. Were the Muses dead?
Then, aloud, I said:
-- No, they live. They reply not
for seeing mere cant where I see art.
They are cackling in sisterly coven
and have simply chosen to ignore me.
Guess I'll give up and go to bed.
Reaching for the light switch,
I leaned over my bookshelf,
where many ancient authors lived.
"It's never too late," they insisted,
"to walk a worn mile. Help them resist,
all who would hate Modernism,
the term itself a misnomer
whose time at long last is over:
Employ the Classical style."
Who could refuse such appointment?
Surely not I. A shofar blast,
Joshua's horn, shrilled from out the past
and rattled down my spine. That night
I pined away, striving to right
generations of wrong, to put
Homer ahead of Hemingway again
and win back the limb
that Joyce and James and all their kin
hacked off of civilization.
Let the modern Odyssey begin.