Cimetière du du du du

Since a lot of peope hate me
I often fantasize
scrapping hospital floors
on the last few days of my life

Like you Lorine Niedecker!

Never heard of her?
My point and not my point
exactly

I also fantasize
getting famous
posthumously
having my Collected Works of Poetry
compiled, curated, collated, lovingly
by Marjorie Perloff
published by Grove
It will have a paean-y foreword
by Ted Hughes’ ghost
He will declare me
the Progenitor of
Urban Agricultural Third World Asian Poetry
written in broken
atom-bombed
I=n=g=l=i=s=h=l=y

I will be a living legend
on the centenary
of my death

My grave
plot G05 in San Diego Hills
will be scattered with flowers
and coins like Jim Morrison’s
the one in Père Lachaise
exactly

(God forbid I like the guy
but like almost everybody else on earth
I’m a big fan
of Val Kilmer)

He is buried
in the hearts of many
around the globe

And that sounds, I must admit, just nice and dandy

A hippy chick with droopy tits
—no bras—
absolutely
will sing A Case of You
on top of me
while her boyfriend play tabla
to the pigeons peck-pecking at imaginary falafel crumbs
on the smooth Italian marble top
of my elaborate gravestone
gravely

She will mean
e ve ry word
exactly

But mostly
I think of Lorine Niedecker
and her giant bottle of Vim

Everynobody sing it now!

If I
could drink


a case
of me


I would still be
on my feet

Since a lot of people hate me
I don’t care what people
or I think exactly

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8 thoughts on “Cimetière du du du du

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