What started as a conversation with a Greek
Seth killed Osiris only to become an ass.
Half Organ ate wheat only to stay an ass.
Bookies, my friend, don't appear in enough poems.
This is officially a poem about Bookies.
We need more greens for the ladies and lemonade.
Soldiers play bugles and Mexicans
eat used books in sales rooms designed
for used cars and usurpers.
"Do you find me stupid?"
asks Half Organ
of the poem he is now a part of.
"Not stupid in the biblical sense."
You, Strong Heart, are nothing
more than a Socialist in a pinstriped suit.
I, Strong Heart, am nothing
short of a manila envelope. We, Strong Heart,
are living like a suite
in the middle of an Ohio field
awaiting crop rotation.
Everything about us revolves
around sex and eczema. Your coffee
mug is cracked and broken. My eyes are cracked
and broken. These poetries are
cracked and broken & ugly and naked.
Place silvers where you know I need them.