Tuesday, June 14, 2005

poem Cuss


Clapping hurts my hands
and ears. Hurts my heart

to pile plaudits on
the overhonored.

Gives repetitive
stress. Ouch. The crunch of

muscles. The steady
press on tendons. The

clank and rattle of
tin hallelujahs

and more undeserved
medals. These cussed

buzzing huzzahs of
rote percussive praise.

These thundering hand
farts of squeezed-out air

and deafening drum
rolls of idle prayer.