The broken words are and

fishing them out

of the poem like is

in a river finding bodies

at dawn a dead poem lies

coughed and rolled over has The typewriter

the strain under of too many allusions

one too metaphors many

the poet's groan and now

new alliteration with each

drowning him in hyperbole

The poem escaped has

the english language and is a twisting thing

a living thing,its ears bleeding crying with

skyward pointed toothless anger

at the invisible poet aimed

who sleeps well despite

the carnage he has left behind

pay respects to your poetry

burn a candle for your language

remember the poem that died here on this page

and was so thoroughly dissected

through the coroner's trade