a crocodile about to eat you at the / end

"Prosody is the articulation of the total sound of a poem"

It's got a kick in it   What a kicker   Mid-field   a 12 horse-power kicker
You got a kick?   Go tell it to City Hall

    It's as though you were hearing for the first time--who knows what a poem
ought to sound like?   until it's thar?   And how do you get it thar except as
you do--you, and nobody else (who's a poet?
    What's,
a poem?
    It ain't dreamt until it walks   It talks   It spreads its green barrazza
    Listen closely, folks, this poem comes to you by benefit of its own Irish green
bazoo. You take it, from here.

    Think of what's possible--not what's new, but what it's all about   what
about it's   all   what all of a poem is. You think of it. You put down a word:
how do you put down the last word. How do you have the last word?
    Wow. Yes sir. The last word. What intervenes, is the simplest But--
    You wave the first word. And the whole thing follows. But--
    You follow it. With a dog at your heels, a crocodile about to eat you at the
end, and you with your pack on your back trying to catch a butterfly. 

-- Charles Olson, "A Foot is to Kick With."