Sunday, March 31, 2013

This goes for me--

I know I can't be famous poet
I'm descending; I'm balding,
Shakespeare was bald
in portraits--why him, huh?
Shouldn't he set a precedent?
Damn Shelley & his lovers locks
Kerouac & his perfect curls
Walt Whitman wore a hat
so who the fuck knows,
Ginsberg went bald you know?
I know he was gay
is there a categorical anomaly
how can I make the grade?
     They want me perfect aesthetically
stack of boxes piled blockxblock for glowing
eyes piercing eyes (ignore my words)
they read bitterly

I'm not pretty
     I've no pretty words
No quotable phrases--I'd
          scowl like and old Italian
on the back
                    jacket of whichever
                    novel you choose
I'd rather burn the book store
     than submit to
                           ISBN ||||||||||||||||||||
                                   5 923230 223307
I'll edit my own shit
I'll let my hair fall out
I'll fuck around anonymously

words'll square my debts.

1 comment:

  1. This is great...I've felt like much of this. I loved the ending.

    I disagree, though, with one part: you do have quotable lines.