Ode To Gregory Poem by Scott Paxton

I have my rhetoric.
My quick tongue
Fancy that!
And you have your old intelligence.
Bitterness!
For there is no substance
here
but my own wit.
Disastrous wit!
Gregorian
I cast you
back
to your birth -
and arise
from the depths
a thousand Arian dreams
of icy madness
to relieve
the in-concrete darkness

Oh, that I was born
from my mother's womb.
Disgrace!
I'd
smash his skull in.
Eat Raw death
from my belly
Real flesh
self cannibalistic
uh, drink my fever...
a liter of boiled blood.

A dog that will
bark
and be beaten
by his master
His mutiny
will boldly
stare
grizzly
into the night -
that mutt!

And for this
my quick wit
will disagree
with all.
Yes, I am not agreeable
whatsoever.
It is this dreadful
stare -
this gnarled face,
that feeds
the day
dangerously
so...

- - -


The audio rendition -
http: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=FjtRrA8cgbY