[The famous poets came for us they came on us or some of us]
The famous poets came for us they came on us or some of
us
at least on some of us they did not come their poems were
beautiful
or not but either way we learned to call them beautiful they
came
like honeybees to hyacinths to some of us they came in some
of us
the ones they called unreadable but fuckable or readable and
fuckable
others were unfuckable the flip the fat the fierce the
frayed the flawed
the frail the flunky the funny-looking radical unshaved the
frumps
the flabs the poets came for us their genius sprayed on us
they preyed
on us they said they’d pray for us like honeybees they
dumped their load
of gold on us like god they shot their wad on us they called
us sweeter
than their wives with softer skin they called their wives by
telephone
their hands over our mouths to muffle us they shuffled us
like decks
of playing cards and settled into hotel beds their socks and
underwear
and undershirts cast upon the shore and then we’d stumble
out the door
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.