Monday, December 29, 2008

Where Poetics Live

There were overtones in the water and
fish on the downstairs side of deep.
I woke up with filthy feet and bebop on the brain.
My last hope mermaid skipped town after
writing too many bad checks.
The drool of success had lost its fizz.
Aristotle cluttered up my kitchen with
some pretty toxic scraps of poetics.