New Poet

haunt polka halls, feast cassava, trail second lines, munch moon cakes. this is tourism, not populism, & my invite is no amulet. o poets, what is your thing tasseled hour readings clap verdant vowels pon verdant steel, structures aflutter, I'm pretty sure. more than travels, I want postcards the kind with the pictures with the words saying 'SEX SEX DICKS' 'THIS IS A POEM ABOUT DICKS'