“All critical forms and expressions lead back to Hot Dog On A Stick for sure”

A work in progress
for sure. Part of it the problem is

it.

Plainly falls into the pattern
of modern doggerel: the “lyric
poem.” Suitable for LYRES, LIARS
and practically little else! Bald
of intent and natural fires burnt
all smooth. No clothes! The ribald
brigand troubadour is trouble!
And far from troubadorable. One
should
be

belted out of the room! for these puns,
some of them! And yet…and yet
the emotion’s run
true through all your
life. Or mine, it has.

A finished work
at this point, yet: every finished
work is only the latest snapshot

of a progress in-process. Workshoppers? Fellow
poets? CRITICS ESPECIALLY! I love critique, and
don’t spare the pounding-pole in the huge butter
bucket where the worst lemonade in the world
(in terms of sane health regards, arguably) is forged
pure and plenty by…wow. Teenagers

in

really cool costumes! Red and white and yellow
and blue. AND THOSE HATS. You could stop
traffic and write parking tickets in

a hat like that

Now
I want some
sort of

sticky meat item

why