terrible and difficult art

Writing terrible poetry is a difficult art.
As much as you want to make fun,
truth and beauty break through
and it begins to mean something. So
you throw in awkward body parts
and pretentious, tin-ear spirituality

trying to drag it back
to the terrible ways
that poetry goes,

those times you've loved,

that mean so much when you're trading turns
reading it, straight-faced on a dare
not to laugh, drinking moscato
that you very much wish
not to snort

through your nose. Perhaps
with some kind of challenge involved,
as risky as you like,

and coming as close,

but such poetry is terribly hard
to write. You can't, quite.

Some things
are best left to the acknowledged
masters. How they do it,

who knows?