A Poem For Clifford Odets
A Poem For Clifford Odets
As I sat watching “Golden Boy,” Clifford Odets paean to boxing, I knew there was only one way out.
And that was down...baby....down.
Like a river flows so go my toes.
As a badger slips loose lips sink ships while drips blips and snippets of dust begin their roiling wake.
“Better late than never,” said Jeter.
Jeter was sweeter than a pied piper of peppered peters.
“Not even close,” Buster “The shoeless,” said, who was clueless.
Just as Duster The Moo-less,” whose lack of moos, was as true-less as a trellis, said Ellis.
Yep. You sure are right!
Now say goodnight...and don’t fight.
Goodnight Irene.
Goodnight.
Bust'a Crab
As I sat watching “Golden Boy,” Clifford Odets paean to boxing, I knew there was only one way out.
And that was down...baby....down.
Like a river flows so go my toes.
As a badger slips loose lips sink ships while drips blips and snippets of dust begin their roiling wake.
“Better late than never,” said Jeter.
Jeter was sweeter than a pied piper of peppered peters.
“Not even close,” Buster “The shoeless,” said, who was clueless.
Just as Duster The Moo-less,” whose lack of moos, was as true-less as a trellis, said Ellis.
Yep. You sure are right!
Now say goodnight...and don’t fight.
Goodnight Irene.
Goodnight.
Bust'a Crab