October Poem 41: Set in Ink

Tomorrow I will begin set in ink

By grass. To sleep as if I had been drawn

There in the field of clover. A homeless

Man hung over with his belongings tied

Into a red handkerchief hung at the

End of a stick traveling alongside

My curly haired mutt. Have they seen her legs?

Hair dirty and knotted, choked with burrs. Her

Underside dripping with fatted ticks

Suckling on her teats like so many of

The unconscious biases that the left

Have about the nature of the evil

Capitalist system. On genius and

Who they think I am by the way I look.




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