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The Poet Dictator |
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I have better things to do I said to you than perfect the language -- this, the poet dictator -- hot taco -- the President is bats -- that is, in the cave a cake-thick chord of fast -- black check marks -- belonging back in the yet unstepped up -- where, in which -- case, wingflaps reverse and unflood -- I wish they would -- This is not a political commentary -- I have better things to do on land than detail -- the language is ready, but the response -- understand -- Here, this wooden singer stringed instrument-box behind the museum -- case has seventeen sympathetic strings -- two and one-fourth for every melody string, if tuned -- Which of my strings or yours calls automatically -- loudly if necessary -- This thinking was caught shimmering in a backward gravity via upside-down rain -- Mighty me, but quietly -- sent a said who ran ahead -- enforcing full disarmament -- my melody insists upon the expense of your responds -- instead I said there's glass in everything sing back at last I've met yet |
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