by Greg Baysans




You can't ask a pianist
to play a trombone.
I write poetry.


Everywhere I go, I go to
great museums, see great art
and always see
a man more beautiful than
anything on the wall
or floor or ceiling.


Don't make me
write a poem
about this. I don't
find that program
that erotic. Remember
being offended by
my not doing dishes
while you were away?


Forest free-
for-all: leaves
and ivy tumble over
hills and cul de sacs
where racoons play,
bears washing food
while butterflies glide
above the bubbling all;
I have to say
the sight was splendid
beyond hallucinations
and it was dark.


Unfathomable as
the arrangement
of musical
notes to
create song,
with or
without lyrics.

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