Tuesday, January 09, 2007

The Superintendent's Scutwork

You might think me mundane
one simple, un complex, odd
but you and me we are the same
same cloth, same mess, same train

I put on antopodial airs to keep the peace
laugh instead of weep, cough, sleep
the days roll by and do not cease
same face, same smile, same conceit

When will I show you all my front
to shake off, drop off, denude
this facade--at hand with which to shunt
your slax, your lax, your 'tude

Please stand and be counted amongst the few
to be firm, be effectual, be free
to day is gone and tomorrow soon too--
they roll, they stroll, they flee

Instead now I sit and I vent my spleen
one manager, one abashed, one friend.
How many modifications are made from the mean
from methods, from motives, from ends?


1 comment:

Scarbones said...

I like this. You should publish more of your stuff here.