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A Poem Should Have Guts

A poem should have guts
and bones
there should be meat
it should smell of sweat
reek of flesh
rise out of the rot
and speak of life
and death
and the sweetness
of them both

Let it roar like the wind
moan like the trees
dance like the hares
in summer grass
weep like a mother
burying her child
pant like a lover
mad with desire

Let it spatter the page
with its fluids
make the poet tremble
the editor gasp
and the readers?

let them rush out their doors
to howl at the moon


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