7.30.2009

I'm Perfectly Composed

My heart

is Yeats,

It aches.


My soul

is Lowell,

it's old.


My ass

is Plath,

it's cracked.


My feet

are Keats,

they beat.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

great work as usual. Hilarious. -seth

Unknown said...

Wow, you really took the baton and ran with it since I looked at this poem last. Still good, but maybe a little overdone. The play on words between the eye-rhyme of Keats and Yeates and the actual sound is completely lost. However, some of the new stanza's are also awesome.

J. Byrd said...

Yeah, I ran it by the last Cats meeting. Cate, Alden and I had a good time thinking up different rhymes. I'll prune it down for sure.