I liked his poem. A lot.
It was white hot
urgently red. It made me
think, “Red Shoes”!
Once, white hot red
shoes told a girl
what to want (and not want)
told her she was
damned to want it. Red shoes
were sl’ow’owers



So listen hear good lookin’
Looook good but be good
like you’re not supposed to be
and remember you can’t know
what that is but something else
knows so listen up, sweet chick.
White.
Hot.
Urgently.



Someone's gonna word you
the shocking bird, a mock-rock
jock-shocking slip proof
post modern poetic bird; she’ll
wing it too whitéd and too red; un
meaningfully post modernly read
 
Ah, Sunflower! When did you
forget you were a sunflower?
tr’ow-ruble was you never was
yet, what a sinner-spinner this was
paired and fat/ed the one that she was  
red shoes and slow h’ours
they make you   
th’inner redder reader
not fated in the s’wall-hollowed jail



Sunflower, when did you forget that?
You never were that and now, ghostflower
how will you be red and not read and

more —be for
the fat/ed h’our?

come play on painted wooder, stones
spelled out between your unplucked
beats unwanted women in your hunter
hunting girl-holy bird holiday d’inn
sinner bitch sit down poet in the kitchen