Kayaking on the Erie Canal
The Mother


I am a writer of bad poems         Illustrated Bad Poem
I am told
using short words
of simple sense
when a longer word
will do: abjuring egregious symmetry of poetic sensibility
I write of life
bad me
Not enough metaphor
my work less interesting than
dandelions blooming on the neighbor's lawn in Spring
less acceptable than the deer who
munch our rhododendron
the language insufficient: too few six letter words, four letter words
or words of latinate extraction
amiable librarians phallically fuck, I write
no dice
Alliterate they say
isn't phallically fuck sufficient?
Or would they oh worms of literary sophistication prefer
freudian fish fornicate in alluvial ambivalence
caesura in place as advised
But no, too obvious
link-long piddle-paddle flap flap
splish splash non-agrarian aquasense
coolish killer Bush
alone alone alone
wake wake oscillation oscillation
Narrative too conventional
No cultural diversity
Boats are for the upwardly mobile
even if sinking

This poem first appeared in SHAMPOO 16