[Julie Steiner]

DRAFT TWO (with changes to S3L1, new final stanza; S5L4 briefly put in strikeout text, then taken out of strikeout text; new S6L2; new S2LL3-4)

1. Rondeau Redoublé

     from "Circumlocutions: A Primer"

Poets, please, no more confession.
Make us guess your soul’s condition.
These days, readers crave compression —
let your sins be of omission.

Save self-centered exposition
for your psychiatric session.
Eating crow is poor nutrition,
poets. Please, no more confession.

Obfuscate your point’s addression.
(Bring no message to fruition.)
Clarity’s the worst transgression.
Make us guess your soul’s condition.

Aim for spareness and concision.      <<       NOTE: This and later strikeout text will be typeset that way, not cut.
Use descriptors with discretion.
Adjectives deserve derision
these days; readers crave compression.

Less is more and more is less. Shun
pleonastic repetition.
Give your pruning shears a freshen.
Let your sins be of omission.

Self-as-Muse? Mere superstition.
Show, don't tell of, self-possession.
Brief and baffling’s your ambition.
Wit and music, deaccession —
     poets please no more.


Tweaks:

S2LL3-4 were:
Heed this helpful admonition,
poets, please. No more confession.
S5L4 was briefly:
Let your sins be of omission.
S6L2 was:
Show your lack of self-possession.
Mime your lack of self-possession.
Show (don't tell!) some self-possession.




DRAFT ONE (with items changed in Draft Two marked in red)

1. Rondeau Redoublé

Poets, please, no more confession.
Make us guess your soul’s condition.
These days, readers crave compression —
let your sins be of omission.

Save self-centered exposition
for your psychiatric session.
Heed this helpful admonition,
poets, please: No more confession.

Obfuscate your theme’s addression.
(Bring no message to fruition.)
Clarity’s the worst transgression.
Make us guess your soul’s condition.

Aim for spareness and concision.
Use descriptors with discretion.
Adjectives deserve derision
these days; readers crave compression.

Less is more and more is less. Shun
pleonastic repetition.
Give your pruning shears a freshen.
Let your sins be of omission.

Self-as-Muse? Mere superstition!
Kill your darlings, like Koresh in
Waco. Baffling's bards' ambition.
What amuses, deaccession —
     poets please no more.