November 21, 2008

This Poem Is Password Protected

Dear Richard,

Someone told me God made yellow flowers first
and that every human has an urge
to keep a record of a life.
Obama's had a couple, I guess.
After all, he's just a man,
no more a god than you or I.
He can't walk on water, change
it into wine, or raise the dead.
Lotus don't spring from his anus.
Richard, I know alot is not
a word, and allot is no place to buy cars,
but who is this Raymond Bianchi?
Maybe he never read Ecclesiastes.
Please tell him the world hasn't changed.
Cigarette is still a French word.
Tell him I looked up "fascileness"
(Try it sometime) and if he needs me
I'll be stalking the Liberal Poets' circle
with my head stuck so far in my navel
all they'll see is ass. Harvest moon.
Tell him I accept his gifts of Gizzi
and Gudding (rhymes with pudding),
but I don't like Chicago. Oprah talks too much.

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