Owner's Manual

Sam Home




Sam Home:

Gazebo Vacuum Cleaner Company
is happy you have chosen the Critique -
our latest model, powerful and sleek,
for sucking fluff and lint from poetry.
It picks up flaws that others may not catch -
cliches, inversions, and archaic speech.
And for those tropes too difficult to reach
a handy prose converter is attached.

Insure debris does not recirculate
by changing bag as soon as it is full.
For safety reasons never operate
while medicated or on alcohol.
The ego filter is UL approved -
warranty is voided if removed.


Jeff Bahr:

Warranty

Your poems may be spindled in its works.
No remedy in law against its quirks.
Your lines may be decommafied or worse.
We strive for modern antiseptic verse.
Our engine mangles soul and sentiment.
Our power settings leave but six percent.
It may just separate the heart from gall.
Alas, poor Orick (bowling ball and all).


Jerry H. Jenkins:

But what of us who suffer housemaid's knee
by getting down upon our marrow-bones
and scrub our lines till every one is free
of belly-button lint and stichs and stones?
We make our structures shine, our sonnets glitter
without the Critique hanging on our necks.
We're masters of our well-worn pentameter,
our amphimacers and our amphibrachs.

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We furtive, private scribblers don't forget
your Critique cannot finish this sestet.


Carol Taylor

Jerry, some xxxxxx's.

Our antiquated style may strike you bland;
still metaphors run linear but deep;
our cliches may not stretch but always scan,
and while we wait the pendulum's broad sweep,


Sam Home:

Dear Mr. Jenkins,

It's come to our attention you prefer
to clean your poetry by muscled wit,
to scrub on hands and knees each tiled word
with toothbrush until grout comes out with grit.

This tendency appears most prominent
in those who've chosen military careers
where scrubbery is used as punishment
for raw recruits and eager volunteers.

To you we're proud to offer our Marine,
a model which is made to take abuse.
It gives your poems a brass-and-button sheen
and whistles "Montezuma" when in use.

This model is in limited supply
and few good men are chosen who apply.


Jerry H. Jenkins

Your ad came in the mail today, Gazebo.
Thanks, but I'm afraid I must decline.
The Manual of Poetry is mine
own bible, and I don't need your placebo.

True poets never need no vacuum cleaner,
but do their dirty work on hands and knees.
Your product sucks, so sell it elsewhere, please.
(I say this with the gentlest demeanor).

I polish poems manually. Their luster
is none the worse for brillo pad or brick.
Sometimes I have to beat them with a stich
or dust them with incendiary cluster.

Old-fashioned poetry - you've got to love it.
So take your vacuum cleaner, G, and shove it.


Sam Home:

Dear Sir, We shall respect your stated wish
and take your name off of our mailing list.
But should some unexpected need arise
our website stocks all models and supplies.


The Authors and The Alsop Review