“Doc, here’s my dizzy symptom:
I’m buying these skinny books
like they’re 80s CDs—
rackin’ ‘em up on the changer,
five at a time, punchin’ in
‘All Disks’ and ‘Shuffle,’
diggin’ whatever cut comes
improv’d out of the swirl—
one long, mad, wild whirl:
StaffordWilliamsGinsbergCollinsOliver—
hell, even the names’ll jazz
a mind that once wandered
scholars’ lanky landscape of meaning.

“Damn! So,
whadoIgot?”

“Poems, man . . . . Poems.”