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4 Poems by Charles Potts |
I Do Not Mistake the Moon March 12, 2001 I do not mistake the moon For a street light Although one hangs above the other. Later in the cloud filled dawn I leave The YMCA thinking about Ovid and Catullus, Latin bastards who suit my taste, Old Greek poets of whom I'm more like Hesiod Though I've written some Archilochian poems too. When the moon reappears through the thin gray clouds I speak metaphorically and carry a big dick. Row Row Row Your Boat On the way back from the PO kiosk I walked through the produce section To say hi to the fruits and vegetables. I spy a fat girl eating ice cream In front of the deli. May I introduce you to the Little man in the canoe Between your legs Who could use the help rowing? The Vagina Dialogues I missed The production of "The Vagina Monologues" at Whitman College Because it had sold out Even though Smokey came through with a ticket while I was gone. I had been referring to it as the title of this poem, "The Vagina Dialogues," Unprepared for Zen feminism: The sound of one cunt talking. Addressing the Dead We will send some money through the mail Not that you haven't forgotten how to use it. We'll trim a little off the edges Since it takes time to get there For the office pool Deflating its value and inflating the price. I hear you had a record low. I'm on a record high. The data is distinct. That's how Republicans get their kicks. When the meek start begging they feel like God Knowing very well who has inherited the earth.
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