Foobs (again):

It's strange to be so self-obsessed
that someone else's pain or death
produces neither empathy
nor thoughts of noble charity
but rather leads one further in
and from the world to memory's din;
but after all, it's real fear
that makes such things to disappear.

The poem, just as many do
in flood of words or blessed few
has petty verbal games to play,
but in the end has naught to say.
A poorly written paragraph
with little wheat and flowing chaff
is what the poet (loosely) wrought:
the line-breaks added added naught.

Having read (and reviewed) the poem "Siren", in the end (and despite my relatively kind comments in my review), I have to agree with you mostly. Not that I agree it has nothing to say or that the line breaks added nothing at all; but 1) the vision of Breslin's poem is almost entirely turned inward, as you describe, while that of Donne's devotion is turned upward and outward; 2) the free verse form, while adequate for Breslin's intended job, doesn't hide the fact that the job itself is rather underwhelming in scope (especially compared to Donne's).

I am beginning to wonder if I have seen so many naked baby emperors parade by on Tuesdays that I have lost my own sense of proportion. When a poem like this actually seems good (instead of what it really is, mediocre), simply because it touches upon a part of the human condition to which I can relate without muddying the waters with coded language, then I'm probably in trouble.

Anyway, I think we're seeing Mr. Pinsky's populist trend continuing...maybe we Fraysters should start pointing out that accessibility is not a panacea either.

wr ()()