those great grandaddies were right-on,
we're farmers not men farming,
students not men studying,
just doing
the minimum for parole
and charting another sentence in grad skoool
why leave the IF out of the GRE: imp/lied
maybe i should sell my hi-fi
for seeds, write burnt stick poems
on hot buttered tortillas,
maybe write anasazi elegies for untended campfires
or worse, hearths smothered in plastic limbs
maybe
i should go into computers
or healthcare. i hear
they're the fields of tomorow tomorow forever. this,
a dutiful poem of intentional
melodrama. drama mine! and
on a skoool nite
1987 lawrence, ks
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