Surveying someone else's poetry growing
Older, ripening like whiskey in barrels --
A little darker here, the proof is showing
Through dirty tongues and glass, through Christmas carols
And fireworks, bratwurst and gravy, a chap-
-book one year in the bag -- a little verse
For wear, you might surmise; just twist the cap
And pour. The vintage is a bit perverse:
An elder brew, bottled in the heartland
And hid in cellars all these years, it reads
A little slower, hard to understand
For television audiences: pleads
With 'em, read me, I'm authentic, just old
And on my way to author past the fold.
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