request and dedications. . .

so somebody had requested to see the following poem in print form (i guess to either swoon over it or to tear it a new one--guess where the winning bets are being placed!) as case kasem would say, here' your request and dedication (minus the dedication). . .

Cyrano is destroying the youth of America.

He broke ballpoints like Ticonderogas,
Splinters of ink traded for lead.
Lost and tired of pronouns with faces,
Since when did poems become a pick-up line?
He doesn’t want to write her a poem,
He wants her to understand the poems
that already exist,
He wants to talk about Dylan,
Bob and Thomas alike,
Tangled up in blue,
Do not go soft into that goodnight,
(Instead)
his John Hughes mouth has
marshmallows for teeth and a
bubble gum tongue
tied—

THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT HE DOESN’T WANT!!


Prufrock poems aren’t special,
straight lines are disrespected by
the angles that fight form when
light
hits lens—
curved and inverted images,
poetry is
second hand smoke read
and
topsy-turvied by the eye.
Feelings don’t beg to be written.
Affection is only a muse when chased.
Pens push paper into
separatist language.
He just wants to say something
that isn’t romantic,
Or scripted
Or perfect.

His chair empties,
A coat hoisted full
Mast with arms,
Door shutting ends a poem
And starts their conversation.

am soundtrack: frente labour of love ep; joss stone the soul sessions; teenage fanclub 13; neil young harvest