Sense enough to know that the way to be found,
besides not getting lost, is to inform all within
Earshot the name of your hometown, and then to keep
current with the kitchen plates and the patio furniture
That decorate kodak moments, and otherwise adorn the velvet
curtain of the soul, the back-lit, blacklight palace of the mind –
Is to steal a glimpse, before Prof. Mahone rolls a false eyeball toward
the faculty lounge. Nothing in new American sonnets is any more
Lazy than Nebraska corn, which doesn’t ask to be husked, either.
Let bloodsport color dialect – never classical, always vulgar.