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[ On Poetry ] Jacks and Jills
Speaking for myself
I want to read spills
bursting from the dam
poet, carrying me away
in their sudden displacements
of my Life's current
volume
Don't leave me puddled up
as a fishy flopping around
on the ground gasping
for what fills these gills
---pour your heart
and soul through them
but only if you're hills-
ide's inclined to do so
It's not like
you don't have the time
and anything better
to do with it
unless it thrills you to have
gullible readers hooked on
fetching your water by the pail
eager to bail your sorry bass out
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