Monday, February 7, 2011

poem


Underdogs

Let’s say X holds all the real power and works to keep Y
from getting any while ABC, belonging altogether to more

distant categories of shit and envy, piously bitch and moan
as Y slowly squeezes through the self-sealing fissure, and EFG

and all the other sad alphabeticals dangle in desperation
on hillsides of hopelessness, doped or au naturale, hankering

to last-shot the big-league bliss after all the fruitless generations
badmouthing X, and now Y—You rotten rainbow hoarders! 

You diabolical double-crossers! I throw my weight and effort
to kept-out others, with as good as backwash to breathe.

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