the muse apprentice guild
--expanding the canon into the 21st century




THREE WORKS
BY ANTHONY ROBINSON

HONEY OR DUHRER

Honey or Duhrer? I'll etch
You in a bonnet-instant, smile
Coffee for the young ones
And trifle up the back way:

The stars and stingers glare
Wildly amongst the trees,
Affordable adore smock, pro-
Generative disease. The bees

Pajama bottoms. Can you
Flow wid it? Shoe a piece
Of treebark-throw my maroon
Shawl at Bandon-By-The-Sea,

Let the long distances call
To each other from the gulf
Of bastard reimaginings. File
Under Gumbo, file under sassafras.

My babies are growing fingers,
The small pieces can wait, oh say
Can the illustrative surface
Contend with the water tension?

Make the evening make me up
Into greased white tubes. Give
Four pence to the ferryman, snake
A frosted doughnut. Do not move.

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VERY BAD POEM IN THE IMITATION OF MY PAPA'S WALTZ BY THEODORE ROETHKE AND TAKING AS ITS SUBJECT MATTER THE DREAM I STILL HAVE NOT HAD (WHICH EXPLAINS THE LACK OF EXPLICIT EROTICISM).

The horses in your chest
Could make a young man dizzy,
But I hang on each breath-
Loving you's not easy.

We romped all night and then
I terrified myself-
You lay there pale and thin,
And nursed me back to health.

The face that I have missed
Is kind, big-toothed and fair.
The lips I haven't kissed,
Are parted, come in pairs.

You said you loved my head,
All filled with booze and poems,
Then waltzed me off to bed,
And I woke up (again) alone!

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WHAT MEL LACKS

What Mel lacks is fat-
free frosting, or a timid
witch with scissors,
scissoring would-be
alps-bound traveling showmen.

Over the transom w/
Mel! and into the pinkish room
above the view above our
declensions and threads of simple
things and lonely interlopers.

Mel's made a mess and
Mel will surely pay. Four
more years, four fine pieces
of nougat and a jolly bang
-up rogering.

Mel's sleeping now! Oh,
don't wake Mel. He's liable
to become incensed. He'll tear
your face off miserably
for lack of what is found there.