Homage to John Allyn Smith

By | 23 August 2004

'I thought new disappointments impossible'
said poor Henryman;
The whiskers flew well enough
but that bridge was a hundred foot
high
                                                             (Yes, yes, it came as a shock to all of
                                                             us)

Those five years burying Bradstreet
might have been better spent my friend –
you remember the boobs they
gave those prizes to when we were
kids
                                                             (My girl says good poems don't need
                                                             an explanation, John. I wonder about
                                                             good poets)

Your father studied the problem
from all angles, and though
you trusted in a forty-year faith
                                                              (Blossoms            What?)
I have a hunch it was Mrs Smith
outside the bedroom with
the shotgun that drove you,
pal. No dream, no
song.

-Old friends you say, Bones?
                                                             (Old acquaintances would be better)

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