Chicano Poet

Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Henry The Satyr

Henry’s growing short horns
on his forehead
and the body of a goat to gloat.

Henry hangs out with Dionysus
in attics and basements
without casements.

The capture and rapture of girls
curvaceous Aegean telephone
ringing off the wall,

the 911 curly hair
like orchestras of question marks
in horn sparks.

Henry drank Beethoven’s Fifth---
the bodies of the naked girls
passed-out cellos on the ground.

Henry sweating from every Singapore,
smelling like a handsome satyr
on an ancient Greek vase.


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