Elegy For A Toy Poet (With A Single
Lousy Rhyme At The End)

He wanted to be better than every other poet
who ever walked on the face of the planet,
every poet who gazed at the moon,

every poet who went blind,
every poet who bled into his own lungs,
every poet who drank sea water

until his carcass washed ashore.
He wanted to be better than every other poet
who died on a mound of mud below a bridge,

who died of a heart attack in a taxicab,
better than every poet ever killed by clever death.
He wanted to die young

yet still be the dean of poets.
But none of this will ever come to pass.
Because,you see,he was just my stinky gas.