three more recent poems

Honest Question

Why is poetry
monopolized by academic
fuckers
who make their poems
mercury elusive
or
slick
like a noodle
you can't pierce with your fork?


Reading Koch and Kenyon

in the past, I was 

afraid to read other poets

for fear of inadvertent thievery

and lately

lately

not an idea

in my head

just my bland life, 

And then to read

of the bland lives of others,

buckets, full and empty, 

insects crawling in a book
I remember 
the big secret
everything 
every fucking thing
is a poem

Critique

I wander
the house 

foul

bored

dissatisfied

there is nothing

to say

I have 
nothing 

to say

"My mind is a big hunk of irrevocable nothing..."

ee cummings wandering my barren

internal landscape, 

with that lamment

"My mind is a big hunk of irrevocable nothing..."

but the shadow of my 

arrogant self

hiding behind 

a tree of charcoal and soot

says 

Why "Big" mr cummings?

I think 
it would work better

without the big. 

Hunk is a word that 

sort of hulks around

and there is a connotation 

of largeness

about it

To think, 

me an unpublished 

self proclaimed poet

has the temerity 

to edit 

one of the greatest poets 

of the 20th Century.

The temerity

Who do I think 

I am?

the words of 

ee cummings

linger in the

burnt out bunker

I call 
my brain

and 

I am there too

I say, 

Yo. 

Big Hunk. 

No, not you, 

Big hunk of irrevocable nothing...

It doesn't work for me

I mean, 
it works for me, 

I feel it,
I live it, 

you nailed it, 

but, 

big?

I lurk 

in the quiet

exploded minefield 

my 

mind

desolate

I imagine 

my bored and dirty face

looking into his face, 

white round

quietly exasperated 

the face 
I've seen 
on 

the book jackets, 

balding and thoughtful