Monday, February 7, 2011

poem


Underdogs

Let’s say X holds all the real power and works to keep Y
from getting any while x2 and y3, belonging altogether to more

distant categories of shit and envy, piously bitching and moaning
as Y slowly squeezes through the self-sealing fissure, while x45y6

and y7 and all the other sad numerical loser-x’s and y’s dangle
in despair, on hillsides of hopelessness, doped or au natural, pining

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

You sinister default conspirators!  I throw my weight behind
all the wayward others with good as backwash to breathe.

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