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Sunday, February 17, 2008


by Marcus Bales

Whose house is this? Don’t care, don’t know,

Some institution owns it, though,

And no authority is near

To salt the roads or shovel snow

This last half mile, and we’ve got beer;

So we will party hearty here

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

I give the door a half-assed shake

And kick the frame before I break

A window, reach around, unlock

The door, and hey, come on, let’s shake

This joint! Burn a chair and hock

A loogie! Poetry’s a crock.

Drink up! We’ll make this party rock!

Drink up! We’ll make this party rock!

Not much is known about Marcus Bales except he lives in Cleveland, Ohio, and his poems have not been published in The New Yorker or Poetry.