Song of Myself

I!!,
rarely come to write as a preference
preferring adventurous pals
or handsome daytime moths seated on green American leaves
(or so I like to believe)

I!!,
having made my way through dams built for both,
am a "madman" and a scholar.

(I!!,
taking in absinthe through mouthfuls of bannana,
come by temerity and happenstance
to add this stanza)

I!!,
am the true "man of constant sorrow,"
hounded from Mexico to Moab to Thailand,
and still penning with verve.

I!!,
am so sick of confor-mites,
and unworthy hominids with un-earned rights,
while the broader earth slaves for first world lights.

I!!,
enjoy cosmic finger-snapping,
and, oh boy!, dig Real black rapping,
but it's sick how this scholar's been living.

I!!,
dig bohemian lairs and mary jane,
too much,
like a true painter
without a brush.