I am a poet, and read my poems in a strange, nasally sing-song voice.
People say, “Why does he read so strangely?”
But then they will say;
“Oh, he is a poet, and he is better than us.”
They are right. I am superior.
Fools think they can understand my poems.
Larks can; they sing along with me while others mock.
But superior people can grasp my meanings
If they dress in black
And attend private colleges
That will saddle them with
Student loans.
The banker’s pain will be worth it.
My palate spews verse like the tongues of water,
Split by a boulder in the waterfall of my mind.
Stand back or you may be dampened by my words.