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The Third Throne of the Millennium

Dang it, great title & I ended up having to delete every word of the poem, after I had combined 2 disparate poems with an idea that I could fool myself into believing that 2 bad halves somehow would make a tasty whole. I was going to post it & hope it wasn't a failed poem but it is. It was a real poem, though, & sometimes failed poems aren't even poems.

The least egregious lines:

Why won’t Berrigan keep his clothes on?
[get it? get it? bare-again?]

Lie down with poets, get up with corpses

The great poets named Charles are few.
Ray Charles
comes to mind
as he so often does
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