Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Right Now I'm Making That Sound
From The Vonnage Commercial.
Can't You Hear Me,
Are You Deaf Or What!
Turn Up The Volume
On Your Hearing Aid!

So Much Depends

So much depends
upon a red wheelbarrow
glazed with blood

among the dead Marines
blown apart
by a roadside bomb

or killed
by small arms fire
( : as if there was such a thing

as small arms fire: )
So much depends
upon the things

that we can not control
while George pushes a blood-stained
red wheelbarrow around his ranch.

Don’t know about you but
Mr. Bones feels it offensive
to compare our great President
to a lousy poet!

“No, stupido,” Henry corrects
Mr. Bones, “this poem is by
WCW the Fourth, the great-
grandson of the Fifties poet.”

Footnote, no socks:
William Carlos Williams the IV inherited none
of his great-grandfather's artist gifts. His talent
exhibits itself in grotesque parodies of his
ancestor’s accomplishments. Though WCW the
Fourth did follow his great-grandfather into
the practice of medicine ( : he’s a Vet, specializing
in rats: ), it is rumored that most of his patients


No comments: