total lifespan 17:01:20 take2 1-800-BE-A-POET flag burning wilted rosepetals impotence

Written in 1991 or before, the poems in this collection are fledglings. I was a junior in high school, just my first year of enjoying English classes. They are rough around the edges and sometimes wish-washy in between, but they are a snapshot of who I was at that point in my life. If you are looking for insight into who I am, this may help. American Freak Show welcome to the american freak show. we have here a sampling of our demonic, sinful society with all of its blemishes and scars. i invite you in for a cup of decaf. i'd offer you a triscut, if i wasn't using them to build an addition to my house. sorry about that three-legged chair, i needed something with which to club this mutant monk which ran through here yesterday. i'm sorry about the smell, it's just society rotting in the closet, since no one has been around to get it dry-cleaned. too bad you weren't here last week. we had a very special event. Ford, Carter, and Reagan were over for tea. well, they started talking, and pretty soon these three former presidents were giving a poetry reading. just as Reagan was coming to his auto-biographical poem "an actor, an ape" Nixon arrived with his V-shaped finger sandwiches. Bush never showed up, because he was busy learning to spell "education." but these four ex-Chief of Staffs were happy without him, till Quayle came and made the conversation too intellectual. so they ditched him, and rendezvoused at the Vatican, where they played poker with the Pope. and as they took time out to ask "why ask why?", they all danced a polka around a burning flag. then the Pope had to leave, to watch "Married with Children", then Nixon, Carter, and Ford each remembered that they had left their irons on. and they all left Reagan who was trying to remember if he had brushed his teeth, or if he even had teeth. all while you and i have been sitting here tasting my coffee which you never realized was actually switched from your regular Folger's, to my gourmet grounds. and yes, these are Bugle Boy jeans that i am wearing, and you can see them after i get the door. i think it may be the mailman, with the x-ray glasses i ordered, along with that garlic gum you're chewing.