I Am 25
With a love a madness for Shelley
Chatterton   Rimbaud
and the needy-yap of my youth
    has gone from ear to ear:
      I HATE OLD POETMEN!
Especially old poetmen who retract
who consult other old poetmen
who speak their youth in whispers,
saying:—I did those then
     but that was then
     that was then—
O I would quiet old men
say to them:—I am your friend
          what you once were, thru me
          you'll be again—
Then at night in the confidence of their homes
rip out their apology-tongues
        and steal their poems.