top of page
An Affinity for Bovinity
some verses beg to rhyme
quatrains pantoums and such
scheming forms their heart
yet somehow disappoints our soul
we respect them but don’t like them very much
still despite our vows to say exactly
what we mean and damn the scheme
the necessity to conform still ticks
away our pulse and before we can proclaim
fuck it, we muck it up again, apologize
anthologize then go ahead and write
another sonnet with absolutely nothing in it
except the need to please that goddamn
metronome, that drum beat, some patterned
behavior imprinted by the steady squelch of mud
chewed, swallowed, regurgitated as cud
© Johnmichael Simon
2008
.
bottom of page