Let the poor mad bad man live for 50 years abroad
& tell us his poems are greater than Dante's
He camps in a burning house
His tiny wife an ember
A knuckle-bone
charred black
Is all that will show up
Come next turn of an orb
That poor mad bad man with taped-together glasses
Whose name means "asshole" in Japanese
Wears a boot with a hole in the toe
When he walks declaiming to
himself
Some wisdom only he will consider
5 syllables at a
time
Come pulverize that special man of stone
Reduce him to his shatter color
Deer horn pressure point strike & flake
Plate chip platform burr
Him song him tell him cry into our mouth
Long weed heads tremble
Drag forth an old bone shank bone
Strike, crack it on a boulder
That old man's voice
A blown-thru reed:
& hectic written levers
Shake his lips shut
No comments:
Post a Comment