I'm the parrot who glares. I headline with "respect".
Even though I don't show any, who cares? Worms will swim
Through your body just like mine. I of a sudden
Feel queasy. Aah ....! Grease my poems and resurrect
My reputation, moribund in gym stench. Dim
With circumlocution, I inhale (fine friend!) mutton
And throw the skanky shanks athwart my fervent ghosts
Populating the vacant hemispheres of my brain.
I moon the moon and make moon eyes at my Love’s pic. Heave
A bucket or three, I don’t care. I’ll cull a roast,
Regurgitated slop, and recycle a refrain.
Cryptic moans through pockets in my head I believe.
Kumquats? Forbidden Loves! Mesopotamian nights!
Strike my haberdasher with flinty sheaves of paraffin.
I think I espied white-coats making off with my missives
In moon-flooded white-floored midnight. I'd put up a fight
But a man of God with a bad reputation can't win
So I'll back up my book of lies and call out for kisses
Sweet while forensic specialists in halls of basements curl
In cues of cadaverous stanzaic watch in leagues
Of ennui mightier than my ego pilled
On pillorying poets sublime. What Shirl
Can resist a meadow interloper? Cheryl Tiegs?
Bind me in horsehair and hemp; my meds do make me ill.
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