Live from the 2018 Rookie-Muse Draft

Get the Flash Player to see this player.
audio: Live from the 2018 Rookie-Muse Draft
audio of George David Clark's poem, Live from the 2018 Rookie-Muse Draft

Re-Size Text: A A A A Comment

RSS blog print

George David Clark

Live from the 2018 Rookie-Muse Draft

 

      There’s nothing new:
      the too-smooth muses
      on review
      look spooked, obtuse,
      defused, or loose.
      Their moons miscue;
      their tunes fall mute.
      They spruce. They rouge.
      They ooze and stew
      like better muses’
      residue.

      Debut such spoofs?
      Such gloomy shrews
      and bootless floozies?
      Choose some snooze-muse,
      snooty-shooed,
      or some blue, boozed muse
      tattoo-bruised?
      A Muse of Boo-Hoos?
      Muse of Tombs?
      The Muse of Fruity
      Douche Perfumes?

      Not you, not you,
      not you or you,
      and not some prude
      who broods on booty,
      not these boobs,
      these clueless ewes
      and two-bit groupies
      who get schmoozed
      all loosey-goosey
      by lewd hooch
      in dudes’ Jacuzzis.

      Shrewd and ruse-proof,
      I’ll refuse
      the whole huge prune-
      juiced loon-deluge.
      Enough. I’m through
      with all of you.
      I’ll muse myself.

      I always do.

             *

      Then cues this high
      noon bliss-tycoon
      to blow a kiss
      and woo a blooming
      through the room.
      A true danseuse,
      no ingénue:
      in lieu of hooey
      she has moves.
      Half aloof
      and half a coup,
      she cruises through
      the stooge revue
      on dewy hooves
      and subterfuge.

      I’m due a muse
      whose news will chew me,
      one whose coos
      confuse me truly,
      one who fuses
      crude with beauty,
      one whose lube
      unscrews the truth
      and soothes me loose
      from dues and duty.

      Muse, excuse me,
      I want you
      whose voodoo skews me.
      Boon me, swoon me,
      honeymoon me.
      Disabuse
      and pas de deux me.
      Screw the queue—
      these goons can sue me—
      I want you
      to finely tune me.