Without headphones without
Book. At once muscular
And carbuncular & wearing
A dress that could only
Be called Hulk Hogan I went
To the meeting. Because
I had to. Because not to
Could have only been called
Maladaptive. Well what kind
Of poet were you the people
In power demanded to know
In so many worlds. An around-
The-world poet I guess.
Two Fresh pink boys had moved
Down the block. I’d
Seen them in their college
Sweatshirts on my way
To the train, wearing the rubbery
Haunted look of sheltered
Youths before whose eyes
Many decapitations and porns
And little else of moment
Had passed. Much to await
From such bright youth