You stack paper like a rapper’s cliche,
Bound book and loose leaf completely covered
In dense deep dreams, like a burning bouquet
Of the future. They say you discovered
Some secret corridor to a place where
Poetry falls from the sky in torrents
While epiphanies dance like Fred Astaire.
Each wild wonderful word you write warrants
Careful consideration. Because you
Did discover the perfect poetic
Place. It’s all around us, you just cut through
The bullshit with razor-sharp aesthetic
And expose all the wonder we forsake,
‘Cause you are the motherfucking CUPCAKE!