poetry on the cheap

it came to me last night before lights-out

as the television pattern emerged in glorious

black and white, crackling with the echo

of the birth of the universe which some romantic

theorists still cling to, and I'm one of them,–– 

that I should just sit and listen, contemplating the hot

stench of God's exhalation.

maybe I'll read a few poems before hitting the sack.

nothing too scorching for this time of night,

which is normally my wont, you know, Daphne Gottlieb,

Bukowski, Ashley M. Jones and the like, but someone

with a softer edge, the bite of a soft caress.

after all, I’m always open to an opinion.

so I pulled an old volume of William Carlos Williams

from my limited, but vital horizontal stack

realizing the price paid for many of the editions

before poems for the most part were readily available

on line, which is to say: basically for free.

a quick calculation of my sumptuous chorus line

amounted to $1,500.00, American.

I suppose I don't need the money, given that the quality of life

seems to have stabilized and is generally in fine order.

but,—I don’t know. I shouldn't complain. money well spent, I’d say.

W.C.Williams, "Selected Poems", New Directions, 7th printing, $1.95 in 1981.