Let’s Make a Deal

When Miss Bookbinder & Mr. Allstar got married,
they made a gentleman’s agreement:
She would never have to go to a football game with him
& he would never have to go to a poetry reading with her.
However, the joke was on her
because poetry readings were elsewhere & commercial-free,
while the fuss over the pigskin could be piped in,
& run into overtime from numerous pauses & replays.

Open Mic

In their notebooks,
their phones,
their tablets,
was their Word—
their prayer,
their hymn,
their song,
their story,
their chant,
their rant,
their spell,
their babble,
their streams of
conscious thought—
made Flesh
with their voice.

The Poetry Chapel
was dim-lit,
glass stains
on the tables,
where the mass baptism
of brains thirsty
for the communion
of secular verse
came to get drunk.

They were creators
as well as consumers;
they wrote,
they spoke,
and audience
and poet were