ANNUAL INTERVIEW OF BZ

BZ,
you always wear
the perfect outfit
before the hallway mirror
waiting on
the leading critics
as you always rose
before them to speak
to suit your character
as a poet to be able
to be lyrically complicit
and overcome this reading
overcoming in all
your mutual or perpetual
melancholy gloom
without having any
warring weakness
from any adversary
knowing early
my task
is to sum up the age
in language
but not assuage
its conscience
or its silence
but in non violence
and not faint
on the peace line
of Dorothy Day
but to be as Saint Francis
as you immediately confess
your poetry
to many a literary situation
of how you go about
in an arbitrary arty way
of remaking culture
and modern literature
begun by Eliot and Auden
from your own recreation
with either an ability to stall
or in a quick breather
in a mighty construction
to take on good works
in a out lasting
of a semester's instruction
departing out of a past time
of falling out
in a chance and novel way
from a romance of understanding
speaking out in sequences
of guts and grace
from an academic hallway
without being in a trance
of a pro forma anemic study
or by sitting on high chairs
in a symphony orchestra
by stuffy drawing rooms
knitting like Madaam Defarge
in a 20th century
with a revolutionary manner
watching an identity theft
catching  up with you
at a last supper
when your friends are willing
with a solitary banner
to beckon and call you up
to attend to your advice,BZ.
you being busy every day
taking any rough and ready
questions of a year end
interview in a newly classified
from an annual literary
discussion from your peers
from any serious
background check
in an underground inspection
from a Shakespearean session
at our backs
especially from Party hacks
at a once or twice get away
from your meter or matter
to share and get away
with an ease of confession
of all the scattered spice
from any literary pretense
in a gap of sensibility
and disguise from a near
clarity of language
in perfect English or Russian
from your head to boot
as an armchair
classic dresser of a poet
with a vernacular suit
offering from a wise speech
an avant-garde password
from an unsolved
cyber security
of ribald charm ,
charity and wit
tarrying on and clothed
facing the public agenda
as a handsome actor
with an honorable pose
of Hamlet
by reaching out
to your audience and fans
as a man of letters
in good cheer
to be able with a BZ flair
that instantly disarms
who will preach the Gospel
by carrying on
to tell and scold in mayhem
but to turn
to the child of Bethlehem,
in all of you
 not to despair every year,
but "To be of good cheer",
with a thrilling debonair
span and spin
in the humanity and humor
of a Shakespearean,
you can drink your wine
with a platter
of French bonbons
on your tabled bench
no matter what rumor
is kept in check
without concession
as you in gentility devour
an American confection
of Good n' Plenty candy
with a slice of vanilla
of a baking birthday cake
when you awake
on January the eighth
before you even think
of a scholarly connection
or hounded by a vendetta
with succinct phrases to share
at the peak of your career
or to handily link up
from a wounded silent cable
in your literati history
of an honorable position
with your intellectual air
in an able disposition
not to despair
but as a Jewish-Christian
like the early disciples
one of Jesus pacifists
with those hundred or so
at my wrist
at arbitrary maxims
paper essays,
a dictionary which twists
without predictability
some newly found epigrams,
a novel of the underground
about Hollywood lives
in reflection the Sixties
with a few more bound copies
available of "Movie Brats,"
short stories
all with that BZ muscular prose
in a distinct sound on line,
or over an on -loan glory-
to court, enable and support
and cover all examined
recently confined, discovered
and divined material
in your private collection
or at a public library selection
of any contrary news.