Marginalized Poem

For Edo

Marginalized Poem

This is a marginalized poem.

It’s marginalized ‘cause it’s stuck between two margins, you see,

The left and right of my computer screen.

I have no use now for the up and down,

I’m a poet

A fucking man of letters

Who idolizes Jon Stewart

And scorns Glenn Beck every chance I get.

No the up and down only gets a frown

From my face

No place-

That is…

Unless of course…

You desperately cling to the words I type,

Just wait

Oh, I know you’ll like

The way they’ll bite,

Got you all boxed into

The margins of your Blackberry Torch’s illuminated screen

I won’t say no

To a little personal congratulation for the Pulitzer I never got.

Let me pulverize your mind into that little box,

Or several little boxes

If you want to take me home

To share with your friends,

That is…

I won’t say no

To several little boxes containing what’s left

Of my measly worn words,

Oh the dirty, dirty, words, words,

Words, always coming from the left

Liberal words flowing freely, softly, hotly,

But softly, simply, darling, oh so softly,

Don’t arouse the might of the words on the right

They write with the might of what’s been repeated before

Long before the left decides what’s in store.

For first the rhyme chimes up in my mind

And what’s left is the left

I seldom know where to begin what’s left of the left

When the rhyme is so easy

It pleases me to write with the right in mind.

And your face of course.

Don’t think I forgot about you, love.

This poem isn’t political.

It’s a typical plea for the glee I see

In the atypical symmetry of your slender hipbones.

Stoned, while I while the while

Meditating on the image of your smile

The night your mind was

Centered directly between

My left and right legs.