Anne Boyer
Anxiety of Influence
I begged my radiant chest might
split & 400 bluegills pour
forth with fins & a composite
devil-may-care. Dear John
Doggerel snapped at this,
measured me against my wish.
You play at feathers, perch.
_
The chrome businessman invested
in his line. I'd-a-sung too
but who shows off at a bar?
Then that businessman went
DO WA DIDDY, MAN.
I went GIMME A DOLLAR.
I meant Forgive us all our juke box jive.
_
The eye that thing. I want
to blinder it. In it, Amhersts sigh
of stiff upper Sods & Securities.
I am not being realistic.
In the percolate my moths
still flutter and glum.
So Nature is haunted & Art begs
ghosts -- but begging burns.
After such fire, what’s fly?
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