Best Poem of W.B. Keckler

Working Poem
This poem is not generous.
This is not a generous poem
This poem has its own agenda,
it's working this side of the street hard.
If you're a poetry cop, move on.
If, on the other dirty hand,
you're bored and genuine,
meet me around that seedy corner
in fifteen minutes. And I'll show you
some . . .
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I Wear A Hat
I wear a hat to hide my face. It isn't to synthesize my image. I am not a synthesizer, although I play one online. I wear a hat with a broad brim, a kind brim. I like it when my face is in the brim's deep shadows, only glimpsed like leaves at the bottom of a motel swimming pool, a pool that hasn't seen a net in years. Think of a motel . . .
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