A Well-Known Poet And Myself

there used to be this well-known poet
but nobody was on to him but me.
they thought he was quite profound.
what he did was open a dictionary at one
page, flip open to a word like:
        Kingfisher
then turn a page and flip to:
        Monroe
then another page:
        hope
        horrendous,
so the first line would be:
        Kingfisher Monroe hope horrendous
and the next line found in the same fashion:
        hopeless posse reneges dastard motion

of course, I suspect a great many profound
poets are only as profound as their dictionary
admixtures; but with L., I’d tell him,
man, why don’t you cut that
shit out?

I lost him somewhere
but it was a few years later
I found him again
crouched
practicing and teaching Zen
to a Beverly Hills millionaire.

L., I said, man, why don’t you cut this
shit out?

and he said, what shit?

so I lost him there
and he went back to his shit
and I went back to
mine.