New Poem

... and here's something from the weekend:

After Connie Bensley

I’ve heard all his stories before
and I am sick of them.
They have no affective content
and they try to persuade

the listener to think about him
the same way he would like
to think about himself.
My eyes glaze over.

I think of a beaver’s dam
stretching across a river;
a brittle construction snagging drink cans,
plastic bags, and all sorts of crap.


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