They only register, they don’t initiate.
Villanelles are yokel-songs.
Villanelles are yokel-songs.
White, not living on a farm—
villein is a poor fit
for the likes of suburban me.
You shot the wrong
villein is a poor fit
for the likes of suburban me.
You shot the wrong
dude, Mr. Policeman,
just their bad luck to be the subject
of a town-y blues song
just their bad luck to be the subject
of a town-y blues song
like Stagolee or Frankie and
Johnny—
rubber-tired wheels of fate—
unmatching, wrong
rubber-tired wheels of fate—
unmatching, wrong
face picked out of the crowd—
whomever we need to repudiate,
serenade with hangman’s songs,
whomever we need to repudiate,
serenade with hangman’s songs,
finally free to join the
throng
now storming the gate.
Poems cannot right wrongs.
Villanelles are Jah songs.
now storming the gate.
Poems cannot right wrongs.
Villanelles are Jah songs.
