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Tuesday, January 12, 2016
The Day Bowie Died: A Poem.
After Frank O Hara
Lulu is blowing morning kisses
to the mirror, looking forward to another day
of making increasingly thin hay
out of having once been married to a Bee Gee.
Gary Barlow is furiously trying to get through
to his accountant.
Mick Hucknall is rediscovering
Buddhism, and watching a fox
be torn to small morsels by hounds.
Cliff Richard is madly practising
his dance moves, and thinking about maybe
later playing some tennis.
Kanye West is not being disposed of
in a septic tank in one of the less
salubrious parts of Roscommon.
Noel Gallagher is tragically
waking up alive, and babbling
about how Jeremy Corbyn is a
communist, fascist, Cistercian,
or some other word he recently learned
to (sort of) pronounce.
This day that began with the red
head of our cat Ziggy
announcing itself against
the bedroom door.
KEVIN HIGGINS is the Bogmans Cannon satirist-in-resident.