His poems are nets
in which he hopes
to capture girls
He makes them at work
or late at night
when pubs are closed
He uses materials
at hand. Scraps
of conversation, jokes,
lines lifted from
dead poets (he likes
a bit of poetry in his poems)
***
He washes his hair
for the reading
and wears tight pants
When it comes to him
he swaggers out
unzipping his file
Exposes small dreams
which he breaks
with a big stick
His verse a mag
nifying glass
held up to his prick
***
His poems are nets
and like nets
can be seen through
Girls bide their time
Wait for the singer
to throw them a line.