“in the muddle”
screwy pete was born
without a body.
he had no need
for such inconveniences.
his genius was fueled
by manischewitz, corn chips,
and photographs of suburban mothers
sweeping up broken glass.
his poetry,
the simplicity of which
mirrors that of the empty page,
has yet to be matched.
chances are
you’ve borne witness to it,
yet never saw it.
that,
that right there,
is the beauty
of screwy pete.