PLATH

I called out to you
Plath, Plath

you were doing
your craft

Plath, Plath
in a graphic laugh

taking out the chaff
from the extraneous wheat

in a superlative paragraph
letting you live in words

standing on math's sheeets
calculating stick and staff

writing out your draft
of your summed up epitaph

Plath, Plath
what a pretending world

of magic lantern tricks
sight reading your manuscripts

a numbed age
will not stop or upstage you

stressing a stealth pop
culture of an outraged view

confessing our loathing
and what is ribald or sick

for much comedy shtick
turns a N.Y. minute loose

a time of self abuse
the 'crime of Lenny Bruce'

as you master the language
away from Ted Hughes

reading every news day
death's page by page

I still recalled on you
Plath,Plath.