What is poetry, anyways

by on November 12, 2008 :: 0 comments

They want articles about highways
in Arizona. I give them pipe bombs
sucking in air, windows shattering
out, blood sprinkled over.

They want cards with sweet messages
on holidays. I give them presidents
in back rooms whispering into ears
of prostitutes sent from nearby

They want one for the children
they teach. I give them the children
teaching them with mouth to mic,
fat baby fingers rapping a podium,
rocking a poem; shut up,
they’ve forced me to tell them,
turn down the TV and listen!

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