Thursday, February 23, 2017


Big Hair, Small Man

He walks to the podium
with a boneless swagger
and a grimace of dirt.
From his mouth come the parasites
he rallies against.
They pour down like an oil spill
to feast on torn jeans
and microwave dinners.
Every word is just a synonym for disdain
and the cameras lick it up
as if they were starving for fire.
Through his eyes, the audience of cellulite
looks just like barcodes
so he finishes
His next failed reality show
to buy them all
not with money
But with Orwellian fame
so he can skin them all
to hide
his menstrual baptism.

        --Robert JW

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