Mistaken Presumption

The poem does not ask to be 

Taken for granted simply because 

You think you’ve put it down so 

Rightly in black and white— 

It wants to know if you will 

Ever learn to tell the difference 

Between that which is before you 

And that lying between the lines 

Left in pieces behind you.

 

 

 

 

 

A Poem Should Be (21)

 

Fiercely and mercifully just—

As balm is to a wounded heart,

And bane to an incurably sick one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Over The Moon Darkly

On nights

Without a moon, I fear

 

The sight of the heavens fills me 

To surfeit. 

 

 

 

Huuklyeand Cinquor's "Full Medal Jackoffs"

Duty calls the poets 

To the front whenever hard- 

Line rabble-rousers appear— 

 

Dishonor awaits 

Those that dawdle, 

Displaying their pussy- 

 

Whipped corpuses to the other 

Pussies in the rear. 

 

 

 

Moderator’s comments: My beret goes off to il miglio fabbro* Huuk for this long-overdue devastating little bombshell of a poem aimed straight at the wishy-washy, nay, empurpled hearts of so many of my fellow poets who choose to sit out conflicts of conscience astride barbed wire fences—and to whom I can only say—have a goddamn heart, you blasted cockscombs, you’re getting too near! 

 

 *https://wasteland.windingway.org/dedication/il-miglior-fabbro

 

 

 

Coming Down To Earth (After Seferis)

Always oppressive 

Seemingly never- 

Ending slate 

Of charcoal grey 

Sky, let us all 

 

Rise a little 

Higher each day so 

We can see it’s never 

A question of arriving 

Too late.