to the ogre
broken hearts
taste like froot loops
dreams are like
cotton candy
which he quite likes
vermin, which make him shiver,
look like poets: “where do they
even
come from?”
he says to his wife
who is made out of broomsticks
and balloons
she commits suicide daily
and daily is brought back to life
to care for their
fucktuplets
thanks a lot for banning Plato
from being taught
at Texas A&M
it’s a great reminder
of some things I almost forgot
the randomness of the real
and the reality of the unseen
the illegitimate nature of
categories
(see Theaetetus on ‘white’)
the grudgelessness
of nature
and the stealth
of objects in flight
thanks for the reminder
that laws are easily broken
and that there is very little
time
for fucking around
*
in fact here’s what I would do
switch out Plato for Hipponax
think about it:
Aggies will dig his choliambs
but then (if I were you)
I’d ban that asshole too
might as well be safe
after all
solitary divergence on a point
of lyric meter
is nothing on which to found
a theory of liberty
—but maybe it is
