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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

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© Johnmichael Simon



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