BAD POETRY

All that I am is swollen dust
Blood pounds through it, watery rust
Coursing through muscles -- what are they?

Deepening furrows in the earth
Eaten away, shedding its girth
Flow, ebb, flow -- the tide runs its way.

---jrw
4-14-96

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By bosoms knotted tight as drums
Comes fluid milky streamlet runs
Hungry, thirsty, gasping gums
For a taste of mother's suckling sons

She comes in clouds on rainy nights
Drenched in satin, silken tights
For five few minutes, dim the lights
I didn't come to see the sights

"I want," she purrs, "a person here
who'll buy me what I want -- a beer
-- and who will touch me without fear
Would such a man be found in here?"

Seven spying eyes espy
A gamlet twinkle in her eye
"I will," "I shall," "I," "I," "I" --
So "aye" say all -- all, save I.

She forks a firmèd finger forth
A shadow seeps from south to north
Lunging -- she kicks wide the door
This is so bad I can't write any more.

 

---jrw 12:33pm
4-14-96