BROKE-ASS

came across a broke-ass poet

sort of all medieval minstrally meandering around

strange how the Carolingans also had their surrealists

just didn’t know it

thought that search for artistic holy grail

the most dubious pilgrimage,

most apeshit quest

of them all

and you have to be careful

in an age of belief

you cannot shake off

full-throttle God-rollicking

divine diss from place most

high

you are not going to come back from

recovering in sanatorium

placed

on injured reserve

but

here

in our age of sidetrack

no one

gonna get

allow themselves to get
railroaded

so hopelessly
find themselves suddenly cast up on desert shore

fate worse

than turning bankrupt

becoming the thing

your father’s whole being was

so well protected against

and yet

my dear saint, so grievously arrowed,

a smattering of suffering (dint

of raw chaos)

might just do the trick

to shoot you

to Olympus for

(statue, no statue) sweet consultation with Apollo

Published by Damian Garside