(for Maria Martin)
The day for lousy verse is now at hand!
So you inform me, and I’m sure you’re right.
You urge me now to bring my worst to light.
Your wish, as long you’ve known, is my command.
Badness is one thing that I understand—
As inchworms understand the depths of height,
As fireflies understand enduring light,
As blueprints understand what’s bluely planned.
Confusion I produce, at your request,
Out of my foggy and abundant store.
What’s slack is strong. What’s horrible is best.
What’s clueless, since it ends in “less,” is more.
Like drums of triumph now I beat my chest.
(That’s how you mix a fucking metaphor!)
18 August 2017
(The imperious Mrs. Martin ordered me to write a bad poem for National Bad Poetry Day, so I was compelled to do my worst.)