Side Stage: Wrote this poem about six hours into Poetrypalooza.
IDK I Never Finished Babbitt
I try sometimes to please the crowd
but crickets play on anyhow. Chaplin
Chapman enters the chat, shrunken
head of an alleycat on her breath,
O'Malley Babbitt blowing where the
weeds grow fresh. Manufacturing
lyres from the reeds 'longside the
bivouac. The prim polite party line
to violence in popular art:
glad I don't biff life like that.
No comments:
Post a Comment