Haji as Prophet Defends his (T)ruthful (t)one
And the well known reviewer questioned
Haji’s outdated didactic tone, arguing,
“In a postmodern age of relative truth,
how dare this poetaster proclaim universals?”
Over breakfast of cinnamon raisin bread
smothered in pb&j,
Haji cut a cross out of the paper,
taking it to a seedy tattoo parlor
in downtown Newark, New Jersey,
the electric needle reproducing
painful pleasure
of his fundamental need
for acceptance
as the excerpted book review bled on his back,
permanent penance for his making mockery
of the transcendental signifier.
“(t)ake (t)hat you ra(t) bastard!”
said Haji, embodying his aesthetic principle
that eternally seeks to fuse spirit and letter.
And the aforementioned reviewer passing by the window,
upon seeing Haji lying face down on a table,
his blood appropriating the ink from the essay,
guffawed at the clichéd rhetorical stance,
rubbing salt in an open wound.
Printed from Cerise Press: http://www.cerisepress.com
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