Rob Galpin

after Basil Bunting

Poetry? You work for me.
You don’t have hobbies.
Your time is mine.

This guy — what’s your name? —
he works all night.
He sleeps here.

What do you do?
Poetry in your lunchbreak?
We don't do lunchbreaks.

Poetry's finished.
We can do it in a microsecond —
the clever shit maybe two.

Inception — that’s real art.
They’ve made a sequel —
I told them to.

I've been to space remember?
Mars next —
I’m building the future.

What's a poet ever done?
Lefties, gays. The trans agenda.
I'm telling governments to lock 'em up.

El Salvador —
let ‘em rot.
Or shoot them – quicker.

Gather round, all leave's cancelled.
We've got new crap to do.
Blame this prick.

What you write is shit.
Man, your fucking face.
Man. Epic roast, man.

You think you're smart?
I didn't even write this.
Now get back to work.