poem

mi ritrovai

I was plunked:
gadfly jitters, they
was swarmin the corpse
of our feast:
Noodletown ain't got
jitters in spirals,
they's the ones
with master plans,
5-year tooting,
scope and sequence
down Dante's dirty
dirt road; forget
the wood,
clearcut into
hellcat oblivion:
I was polite in
the old days,
now's I just
craters: it's all
in the synch,
all in
the run for cover.