Everyone hates Billy Collins
i don't know why that is they just do
slender boys in their ancient gymnasia
Henry Rollins and Jacobins too
when the first poet spoke the first trochee
or whatever you call it of verse
the cave-people side-eyed each other
and shrugged, saying "it could be worse"
some poets were born to be scapegoats
and to bear all the sins of their betters
from the first song the first Billy bleated
by this need he was put into fetters
i have not myself read Billy Collins
for I fear if I did it would seep
through my dermis and poison my eardrums
sucking hollow my songs and my sleep
some heat-blistered day in the future
all our bones and our bridges post-crumble
some post-human will read old Billy Collins
and "Hey, this is good!" he will mumble
then that age will be severed forever
from a true understanding of ours
as our loathing of poor Billy Collins
looms out of the sand like leg towers
now I wish I could love Billy Collins
shed the chitin of my hipster bubble
but like everyone else I am trapped here
smirking slightly beneath all the rubble.