Modern Poem

Today this poem fell out of my nose
Stopping a nostril with a thumb
I blurted it out onto the page

It’s trying to impress you
Like a coconut against your skull

Perhaps you could crack it
And suck out its glowing milk of life
But it will crack you first

                                          It needs to be ironic\
                                                                                     \
                        (Perhaps you should feel sorry for it)         \
                                                                                                     \About what it isn’t sure

Its tone is so amiable (and humble) that you can’t help admiring it

It wants to be an atomic bubonic bannana-fanna-fo-phonic
language poem

But it still can’t decide if it should try to mean
Or just be

Now its got an idea:
There is a white clothesline outside of a red barn
And its got some white chickens on it strung upside down squawking prophecies
And a shiny red convertible wheelbarrow glazed with rain water that so much depends Upon is driving back and forth over the broken glass of society and your life
And all of nature trying to catch the feathers

And can’t you sense the chaos?
The inevitable dialectic
Shaking the white clothesline of consciousness in an ironic earthquake?
And all those prophetic chickens, strung upside-down, bobbing like piñatas?