Poet's Korner

"I dedicate this one to Speaker Boner. Eat shit you crybaby." --Chris Peebles

My fort at the
beach is made
of driftwood.
It's dry.
Dry as the bones
of my
dreams.
The iconoclastic
acetylene torch
fashions new forms
from the irreverent
alloy.
The sparks fall like
incendiary rain onto
my wretched rampart.
The high tide of
more masterful
builders will soon
sweep the ashes
out to
sea,
salty and
inhospitable.