the professor

was a decent enough chap
to come around to tell us
how we were doing the poetry
all wrong
he’d lay out the rules
I think he even had charts
& bits of old masters’ work
to illustrate his illustrious points
& we ‘the river street ranters’
would sit back & suck on a few
while he did his bit
as that was our rules
everybody got to read
sing
or spaff whatever it was needed
spaffing
we would applaud
even terry’s rotten poem about his sausage
got that
& then it would be time for the next
our stuff was not for the great English literature
most of the time it wasn’t even
for each other
it was about getting the words
the line
out
seeing
hearing
how the words were
sung out loud
the professor knew that
but he had his thing
much as we had ours

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