Tuesday, July 29, 2003

Dan Bouchard sends the following poem. Thanks Dan.


Poetry gets a sandblast every seventy years
and no amount of weeping can hold back all the tears

Soon the supermarket will be gone where
his yodels and sodas were bought with cash,
never plastic, and the king burger booths where we sat
stealing extra ketchup (you've got
to reason: if they put it out there to take,
it's free).

Soon the pavement I pissed on while drunk
will be washed by a filthy, heavy rain
and the chimps that you bought as a lark
will map patterns on the brain.

Comments: Post a Comment

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?