For Crying Out Loud, Poets, No More Killer Clichés

Holy Moses, pilgrims— 

Can’t you see 

 

No matter how 

Hard we try, 

 

There’s always one more just 

Around the bend, hiding 

 

In the bullrushes, burning 

To cry out 

 

Bloody murder 

In the name 

 

Of all those fellow travelers 

Soon to be 

 

Most foully dispatched. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Haiku: Ditched

Still you keep saying 

You’re in it for the long haul 

Here by the wayside.

 

Incestuous Matter

Maculate 

Monstrous 

 

Issue and what 

To make 

 

Of ancestors who had 

No conception 

 

Of what they were about 

To procreate. 

 

 

 

 

 

Incredulous Braggadocios

Just you wait and see— 

You won’t 

 

Believe your eyes 

And ears what with

 

Such a final blistering 

Salvo, I shall bluster 

 

My way through what’s left 

Of this dull spirit- 

 

Less life—while we’re at it though, 

Think you could 

 

Hold on a minute so I can 

Catch my breath and stay

 

Even with you?

 

 

 

Archilochos In The Vineyards Of Thasos At Harvest Time

[burgundy stains but]

 

when [ ? ] grapes [blush]

and [   ] [   ] [   ] full-

 

[bodied] half-

[

[

[

naked Bacchus-

 

[soaked] maidens know

[

[

[no?] shame, may the

 

[manuscript here barely legible]

 

[

[

[

[goddess] help [me?]

 

[   ] [   ] [   ] [   ] I too

[

[

[

lust [   ] [   ] [   ] just

 

[evidence of violent shredding]

 

//////////////////

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

//////////////////

 

[the] same

[

[

[

[

[

[

 

[series of large gaping holes]

 

OOOOOOOOOOOO

OOOOOOOOOOOO

OOOOOOOOOOOO