Another poetry post, because when you're in grading hell, nothing else worth discussing happens.

My Great Great Etc. Uncle Patrick Henry

There's a fortune to be made in just about everything

in this country, somebody's father had to invent

everything--baby food, tractors, rat poisoning.

My family's obviously done nothing since the beginning

of time. They invented poverty and bad taste

and getting by and taking it from the boss.

O my mother goes around chewing her nails and

spitting them in a jar: You shouldn't be ashamed

of yourself she says, think of your family.

My family I say what have they ever done but 

paint by numbers the most absurd and disgusting scenes 

of plastic squalor and human degradation.

Well then think of your great great etc. Uncle

Patrick Henry.

---James Tate