Can anyone tell I’m on semi-vacation?

08 Oct 2015c- The Mill

How many poets – sweating over iPhones,
heaped like cordwood, ready for the burning, Muse,
all your double-mallets swinging at their bones –
before some dedicant of yours begins to spew

hot sonnets, tanka, villanelles, sestina
a righteous roaring river none can dam,
and damn, you’d hafta drink down whole cantinas
to wade through alla dat hot Muses’ spam!

But I say, keep it comin’, Musey darlin’,
and toss my phone in with me once I’ve passed.
I hope by then my words will still be charmin’ –
and if not, well, the world can kiss my ass!