Facebook!
Existential pout.
Gimme a shout!
Signifyin’ monkey,
can’t live without
graffiti on a small scale,
cyber shut-in’s daily wail.
This and that — the things that be —
must be vital to you,
like they are to me.
If you could only see
what that moment meant to me
at the butcher’s
at the baker’s
at the candlestick maker’s
Visit My Space.
Sit on
My Face-
but you can’t feel so I won’t deal
—not with you-
‘cause, you see, that’s me:
My Face
at the top of the page-
if you can see. Don’t go into a rage.
So that’s what this is all about
My face, my book, my place
my shout.
[This appears in the current issue of the print magazine And Then]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem