I wrote a poem for
you.
I wrote a poem for
me.
I wrote a poem for
desk jockeys and cash
register fanatics.
I wrote a poem for
all the benches of
the world
and all their inhabitants.
I wrote a poem for
Allen Ginsberg
and his secret loving
soul, now made public
for mass consumption.
I wrote a poem for
King Buddha and his
promise to enlighten
us all;
sending us
to Pure Land personal
heavens.
I wrote a poem for
the alarm clock
cold morning, cold feet
warm sheets
blues.
I wrote a poem for
everyone everywhere
always because
work is boring.
I wrote a poem for
the void. Never having
seen it, no way
to describe.
I wrote a poem for
crosswalks hallucinating
***** looks within
blank, staring headlights
threading smoke rings
through needles.