This poem just plain won't
tell the truth. Slap it. See? Nothin.
It jive around you
can't butter it up it don't respond
to kindness. Cold turkey? Good Luck.
Kick it around some. This poem's
still dumb. Maybe drop a tiny
atom bomb on it? Alas very much
silence it's like a billboard freeze
of Bartleby selling Shell Oil
it would rather not
be here. Don't bother
messing its fusebox--
a hiss of white noise in the speakers
blood in your ears rush
of static but you might as well
get off its case. It refusing
to come out & play it stopped.