Boobies in the Way

On the Intrusion of Visual Art into Verse

Time to dress up –
time to ‘fess up!
Revolution is at hand.
Substituting for the band

tonight will be, in fact,
the sort of act
you never came to see.
But this thing wants to be –

insists that it will entertain
despite the mental strain
it cannot not induce:
or that it must traduce

your laws and expectations.
Send your tsk-tsk’s on vacations.
These boobies gonna mix it.
There’s no way you can fix it.

You sit there with a penciled fist
and try to write a better list
of things to do today.
Got boobies in the way.

They think it’s tragic
you might miss the magic.
So they wriggle and they hoot
and kick you down the chute

of their proclivities.
And now you’re their activities.
(Ah, but: block a poem?
Ha. You’ll show ‘em.)

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