“Are the three of us a postmodern take
on Grendel—I’m the old ogre singing
but instead of running, your screams ringing,
the young girls say my song a hit they’ll make?”
“Wasn’t Grendel,” the red witch asked with fake
puzzlement in her voice, “Gardner bringing
Beowulf out for postmodern zinging?
Are we postmod icing on postmod cake?”
“Shut up,” the green witch said. “Beowulf’s gang,
heroes, has no place—even as jokers—
when fake monsters and fake virgins fake fight.”
The green witch laughed. I struck a chord. She sang,
“It’s nobody’s business what the ogres
and showgirls do when they’re alone at night.”
on Grendel—I’m the old ogre singing
but instead of running, your screams ringing,
the young girls say my song a hit they’ll make?”
“Wasn’t Grendel,” the red witch asked with fake
puzzlement in her voice, “Gardner bringing
Beowulf out for postmodern zinging?
Are we postmod icing on postmod cake?”
“Shut up,” the green witch said. “Beowulf’s gang,
heroes, has no place—even as jokers—
when fake monsters and fake virgins fake fight.”
The green witch laughed. I struck a chord. She sang,
“It’s nobody’s business what the ogres
and showgirls do when they’re alone at night.”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
‘Now Sing Of Walls! Sing!’
Something That Sets You Apart
Christmas Witches I Mean Wishes
Christmas Witches: A Present Of The Past
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