The use of "howl" must be a shout backward to Allen Ginsberg. The little snippet of an off-rhyming couplet at the end sounds self-satisfied but also sad. There are no rules. Begin again. ... Another workday. Another meal. Another loss. Another "how?" Sounds like life to me.
Doing the Loop
The rules are made in factories.
The rules are made to be broken.
Broken people see themselves in broken things.
Whole towns of broken people work somehow.
Somehow is not a place.
Yet you get there and wonder: how?
How, repeated, is a kind of howl.
In wilds and towns, how answers how.
How do you begin or end?
There are no rules. Begin again.
Beloit Poetry Journal
Winter 2014/2015
Howl here.
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