President Oet

I am your President Oet,

and now is the time

for an Oet’s rhyme.

Indoors, where I preside

is my hat—

or something like that;

obeying laws

(like the Law of Gravity,

and Cole’s Law)

I am sure

enough

that I am following

in the footsteps of people with metrical feet,

and Symmetrical Street

is where I live

(at number forty-two)

in my humble-down abode

writing like a daemon

carrying his heavy overload;

making little cents

for tiny American people

and wallowing in the mud

of a poem writ in blood.

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