Family Reunion: Seventeen Syllables

Thats my father: he is a powerful genius
My uncle grins with twisted yellow devil teeth

My sister and her next fiancee are all here

I apologize for not having my first love
Ginsberg was twelve when he married a virgin nun

Tapping the brick walls of the neon satellite
Held in the vacuum of my own solitude head

My grandfather's eyes are heavy tired sleepy
On the patio, we gathered for his story

Nonsensical books on becoming poetry
Child, you dont want to know my soul's poverty

A line isn't worth anything unless it is
exactly measured out, seventeen syllables

The Eastern hero shakes a heavy fist westward
I shall not weather here without a musician

I disagree with everything you are about
I did not keep a copy of my own poem

Step-mother offers me a pre-selected bride:
"No, my bed is over-crowded with unread books."

Loved ones, it is not as though it is unwritten:
These intrepid tales of family reunion.

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