DUNG
OF DUNG BEETLES AND RICH MEN
I live the poet’s life! he said One of my brothers
told him he looked like Zappa the other he was
full of shit Charlatans like this captured my fancy
by the dozens back in the days of yore
Now I know the dung-heap rejectee for all that he is
+all that he wantstobe See him there leering with not
a little lust for my last clutch of middle-years youth Red
dress sashaying scintillating repartee Weight of yearning
about my hooded eyes
1950’s father would have surely taken him outside where
he’d have sent the bullshit+machiavellian grin to the moon
Alice to the moon When men were men and real men ate
poets for breakfast
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Spring 2016
songanddancegirl 