a poem by John Dorsey

ezra pound motherfucker poem

3 assholes walk into
a bar i'm one
of them when the
kid shouts out
who here has read
ezra pound and not
just some bullshit
in an anthology everyone
raises their hand and
i want to say that
sometimes it's just easier
to let the dead
speak on their own
behalf they are simply
better dancers graceful weavers
of words that seldom
forget that we were
all born into obscurity
that the words that
frame the poem on
our lips make for
good excuses beautiful skeletons
hollow keys unlocking promise promising nothing

here god is an
asshole he reads a
poem that reminds me
of ezra pound if it's
3 lines well then
that's 3 lines too
long when all i
really i came here
to do is get
drunk on the spirits
of the dead and to
quietly keep my shadow
from jumping into the
flames of so many
long forgotten teenage wastelands

i've never really been
up for dancing in
the halls of the academy

this night shouts out
let the skeletons fuck
spiderwebs if they feel
like dancing in the
closets of heaven

with any luck i'll
be too drunk to
protest their notions of genius

© John Dorsey