The Craigslist Poem

The Craigslist Poem

The Craigslist winner – or a finalist -

Yesterday was printed in The Times.

The prize – 10 grand – the picture of the party

Where the award was given – rich and posh.

The poem that was printed? Jersey loved it.

Excellent. Believing it was mine,

Deeper than I ever wrote before.

It hadn't any talent,

Intelligence or rhythm.

And certainly no music.

And nothing that made sense.

Phrases! They were bullets

Ripping cotton off a dummy,

Implying or suggesting something -

Probably old age.

But oh! A song beloved by its author!

A song? Oh yes! That Ives would set to music.

And this imagination

Was exactly like a dream

With just as little meaning,

And the meaning in a dream

Is skin that's dead and flaking

Off the bottom of a foot!

9-23-13