Elegy for Gregory Corso
The poetÂ’s toothless grimace took upon it a life of its own
disowning oaths and other false virtues
praising the liberator
the herald of barges and buttered crumpets.
Praising opium opiates and schoolyard glances.
Abandoned by motherhood and searching for a warm yet firm and dependable breast.
The poet dies softly to some ears not mine.
He goes out kicking with the force of the minion
propelled by the furies
he has accumulated over time.
Bury him now with aging manuscript in his skull like hands
bury him now with Greek vases and stele in his skull like hands
The poet lingers in hearts of the once were alive
challenging crippled conscience and ethos
assuming the role of a tormentor
crown prince of a nation where royalty is castrated
Give him his due elevate him high digest the words and praise his eyes
give him his due elevate him high for he dies slow and painful murdered by you, not I