"A New York times bestseller "

 I woke up splattered all over the front page 

of the Washington Post today 

The paparazzi posting pictures 

Of the shoes I wore the night before 

I woke up the story had changed 

The front page is the last page 

The headlines are blank

The date is right 

But the comics are no joke 

My blood is dripping 

From the crease in the page

Splattered all over your ankles 

I washed out between the pages 

Of somebody's post today 

Bob Jenkens 

Sorry I'm late 

"Autopsy of a poet"

 To dissect a poet is to open his pages and read 

look at his vital organs how did life make him bleed my autopsy will reveal emotionally physically ironically 

shut the book and no this is how I read 

scribbled out, crossed out, left out this is my autopsy in pencil and ink 

I've bled every word I write!