The Brown Recluse

She had more talent in her little finger
than the school of quietude, post-avant and flarf
who only teach school children how to barf.

She visited more lands than Magellan and Marco Polo
by sitting in her bedroom looking out the window
to witness Ahab ride the mighty minnow.

She wrote new poems everyday
each with a distinction
unlike Ashbery’s monotonous extinction.

Her punctuation was different
with hyphens so dramatic
and lyrics epigrammatic.

She hid all her poems in a chest of drawers,
hid others in the attic and some in her mind---
those are the ones that we will never find.