Non-Erotic PoetryA Higher Level of CacaJust when you think it's safe
to drop a little gift
out behind the bushes that
are called 'New Poems' of Lit.
The anon comes stomping by
just as you're leaving it.
Augury's seldom well received,
portents filled with wit,
grating insights proclaim,
your arse is full of grit.
He then prescribes a purgative
to relieve your grunting fits.
So, don't despair of foul air
though flatulence burns the eyes.
Careful when once again you squat
to deposit your next surprise,
there are piles of other offerings
that draw as many flies.
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