hi
it’s me
yer basic schnoodlum
one part shrug
two parts hoodlum
wasted it’s fair
on the slopes
of this chair
no hope
or hair
lamentably
there
dependably
spare
a shame
it’s a name
no one remembers
last in line
of the great deep enders
waving his arms
hands, legs
whatever he’s got
going nowhere
splashing a lot
okay so this poem
this mixed-up modem
this odd wad of word gum
this ho-hum ovum
this proto golem
walking arms-out into the ocean
this foaming jeroboam
to spray round a podium
no-one invited you on
as always… it’s vital
to give it a title
which I manage after an hour or two:
no i wouldn’t do that if i were you
jim clayton 