We are going to change American poetry!
We said one morn in Massachusetts
Then cackled all day through our megaphone witch hats
Even then I was Laura Solomon of the poems
And you were Dorothea Lasky
Gift of god and the forest that eats and spits back all souls
And we have just returned from a journey
And we are not afraid to say so
We are not afraid of anything though there is everything to fear
The lives we risk!
How sad that poets today are afraid of a little word like bird
How sad they mean bird but they say cicada
How sad they mean soul but they say nothing
They do not use the word journey
And they go no where and they say no thing
And they leave the poem and the person in rotting pieces
Oh Dottie there is much to make from this rotting!
Oh the sturdy cabbages that will grow from the sung dung we sow!
Oh from this compost heap of corpses the carrots that will sprout up like penises to make healthy again the eyes of our people!
Oh Dottie how we will look every eye in the eye and burn ourselves at the stake!