More By This Poet
Fable for Blackboard
Here is the grackle, people.
Here is the fox, folks.
The grackle sits in the bracken. The fox
Here are the fronds, friends,
that cover the fox.
The fronds get in a frenzy. The grackle
Here are the ticks, tykes,
that live in the leaves, loves.
Translations from the English
Pigfoot (with Aces Under) Passes
The heat’s on the hooker.
Drop’s on the lam.
Cops got Booker.
Who give a damn?
The Kid’s been had
But not me yet.
Dad’s in his pad.
Margaret Are You Drug
Cool it Mag.
Sure it’s a drag
With all that green flaked out.
Virgin, sappy, gorgeous, the right-now
Flutters its huge prosthetics at us, flung
To the spotlights, frozen in motion, center-ice.
And the first rows, shaken with an afterslice
That’s bowled them into their seats like a big wet ciao.
O daffy panoply O rare device