Who am I to bemoan
the sadness of selfie-verse,
poems with reach that so exceeds
their grasp their own mothers would
be taxed – hard-pressed, at least,
not to cringe, but force the grin
of approval selfie-poets crave?
room for a snack?
Who am I to bemoan
the sadness of selfie-verse,
poems with reach that so exceeds
their grasp their own mothers would
be taxed – hard-pressed, at least,
not to cringe, but force the grin
of approval selfie-poets crave?