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The Skull-Smasher

Imagine their brains 
oozing wisdom on 
the skull-smasher's pen. 

Open season on 
all poet's with Jack 
K's photograph on 

their dormroom wall: 
Ginsberg's Howl poem 
scrawled in the stalls, where 

the undergrads shit: 
constipated, and 
grunting to let it 

out.  Their so-called voice 
splashing in the pond: 
I mean, the toilet. 

The skull-smasher's pen, 
red like the blood of 
poets with shit for 

brains: those who do 
not question that 
which is killing them. 

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