BAGGY GENERATION

I need no canoe to sail back into

The past, the day my grandfather

Read his adage into every growing ear

Only a puzzle in my brain, & this all

Would re-appear in fresh flesh

We grew up with this adage becoming

The owner of our heart-

The okra herb never duels for height

With its cocky.

As my mother’s tongue has also attested,

My mother’s mother would sew her a cloth

Of pair-able size to her petite nature-

Cutting her cloth in accord with her cloth.

Err NO for this baggy generation

A man’s shoe size is a thousand and two times

Grey-haired than his leg

Every being opine to what isn’t yet

Visible in their weak muscles

A child wants to talk before birth

And run before he crawls

A boy with two teeth is wearing the

Words of fatherhood in his mouth

The beards like scattered mop strands

Beneath the bottom of a child’s mouth

Has been robbed of the esteem of his father.

The baggy generation of

Fat clothing in big thin bodies

makes them another phrase

For a swallowed pill.

Baggy heads yet thin of sense

Everything is baggy! eyes, mind, mouth & motive

On crossed legs, this generation wants

To reach the peak of an alp.