32. poets have bad teeth, have you ever noticed?
poets have bad teeth, have you ever noticed?, if i ever get a literary grant i will gather up my poet friends & treat them to the dentist, & the one who i am in love with, i think gold teeth would look good in his mouth, it would suit his entrepreneurial skills, his corruption & his tacky sentimentality, & because he is the poorest of the poor, least likely to come into contact with gold, i will mend his gums with gold teeth, which i'm sure he would love, then i will let him go, he may go to the hock shop or the dentist to get them prised out, i doubt if he will buy a computer with the gold, he will end up alone & walking the streets with nothing but his broodiness & his survival skills, he is a storm of a man, hopelessness bends his back year in & year out, how strong he must have been, not to let go of grief & anger & to still survive, in his beat-up & kicked-around fashion, is it so fashionable?, why should poets live so poorly? in the pub, the noise & crudeness of the place, gentle readings drowned out, poets are squashed down like old hats, set upon by the world, this society hates its poets, won't fix their teeth, yes, he is the one i will put gold into, they will be planted to shine like small suns in his mouth, so that when he laughs, there will be this mysterious emanation, he laughs like my mother, that stilted forced laughter, it was as if her whole body would crack in half & smash if she really let go, his laughter is like that, the laughter of poets, god let them break |
