Kicking Out the Enjambs
by Bill Yarrow
I can be iambic when I want to
be. Another day, another dolor…
The forgotten man has been: forsaken.
The forsaken man has been: forgotten.
For heaven's forsake [n]. Looky, looky,
everything's très mystique. Usury for
you? Misery for me. Agita for
breakfast? Telos for dinner. What price, tag?
Wake me when the narcoleptics arrive.
be. Another day, another dolor…
The forgotten man has been: forsaken.
The forsaken man has been: forgotten.
For heaven's forsake [n]. Looky, looky,
everything's très mystique. Usury for
you? Misery for me. Agita for
breakfast? Telos for dinner. What price, tag?
Wake me when the narcoleptics arrive.
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Author's Note
This poem appeared in Truck, guest edited by Alexander Cigale.
disrhythmic pentameter
This poem appears in Blasphemer (Lit Fest Press 2015).
Other stories by Bill Yarrow
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* Love it.
Clever and fun.*
Thanks, Jake and Charlotte!
I like it, laughed as I laugh, at it, instead of hiccoughing or whatever that epileptic laugh is. *
"Usury for
you? Misery for me. Agita for
breakfast?"
Inventive, Bill. Good writing. *
Thanks, Ann and Sam!