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              I Want A Poem
              By Willie James King

              Prussian blue is pretty
              but I don't want to read
              about it in another poem;
              I am fed-up with fuchsia
              too, as well as aquamarine,
              anything thought
              exotic, pristine.
              Give me a drinking gourd
              mottled from too many
              mouths, 'possum turds
              packed with persimmon
              seeds upon a path;
              or, buzzards circling
              above a fetid carcass
              they are eager to glean
              from the earth's ephemeral
              hold. I want things that are useful,
              dutiful, even sweetened by death;
              a young capon fattened for company
              whose name I don't have to know.
              I want the kind of poem
              that takes me someplace,
              a place I never knew
              I needed to go.




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Document last modified on: 04/02/2006

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