Ars Errata

I found a poem that was too big
I found a poem that was too small
I found a poem that was too tall

I found a poem that tasted like a fig
I found a poem that was too large
I found a piercing poem by Marge

I found a poem inside a van
I found a poem destroying heaven
I found Tagore at the Seven Eleven

I found that Ginsberg was Peter Pan
I found on the ground by following the sound
the cremated ounces of Ezra Pound.