What speckled disaster I tossed down my gold
throat last night, fluidly commending freaks
to anomalous lives, though I don’t know shit:
a mean little apocalypse I’ll be,
slapping cab hoods to turn out penniless neat
transvestites, cashless wigs in a black night:
but there’s a lecture about labour I’ll never
get over. What foamed empty glasses right
here loom, while I speak in my old man’s voice:
show me a daytime deadline, I will meet it.
Unrock fields, shovel shit, run the defenses;
this life, you work, no call-in-sick pretence.
Questions and Answers
What inspired “Powerpoint Presentation”?
I was not inspired to write it. ‘Powerpoint Presentation’ just accreted. There is no compulsion, or need, to write any given poem.
What poetic techniques did you use in “Powerpoint Presentation”?
A bit of high-low; you mix street and small talk with formal poetry’s solemn rhythm and bigger words, sometimes it’s successful.