"This Makes Him a Hermes"
--------------------------------------------Keats

Asthmatic the beggar, clown
Waking frowns drunk as dawn's not,
Tongue caked with dirt.
Uncanny, he yawns,
Such a bender, carbonated
Veins, spins, your throat an abyss-

Expect little: just to dissatisfy
Nausea you'll have to see
Little but close
Your eyes to what's fixable while spinning
You drift amidst them,
Exhumed, with a dirty mouth.

Copyright © Mac Oliver, 2001.  All Rights Reserved.

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