A Wombless Vacuum Lacuna
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
It seems I yell out nothings, nothings, not
One thing the universe desires. My clouds
Are chocked with ambiguities, more clot
Than what most readers want. It seems the crowds
Want Rap instead of poetry, if Rap
Is filth and innuendo, bullying
And rape and crime, a swill of rhyming crap,
