POP POEM


From my typewriter,
paper explodes like popcorn
words and wit
Picasso style
verse-masks
fish-eyed philosophy
the scattered limbs of stories
words overflow the room
slip through windows
my lawn looks snowy,
out of season
neighbors are curious
tv crews arrive
people I never met
are interviewed about my habits
waded in drifts,
they are reading
while the police ponder
what charges to bring
against a writer
who will not stop
writ…