“‘The Literary Scene’
What the fuck do they know?
Fuck all! That’s what I say.
How do you know?
I don’t know anything,
But don’t profess to either.
I’m Jim Yesman McGrawl!”
“Who?”
“Couldn’t give a fuck that’s who
Couldn’t give a fuck if you knew him from Adam-
Is Kerry for Sam? There’s another one for you”
“Oh but I’ve got a friend,
He is The Scene,
Makes the literary get jittery
He’ll like your wobbly jib,
Wild gaelic soup,
Read something into it.
That’s what they do you see,
What so they do? Want so they do,
A Voice.

As cheap as a zodiacal trumpet
Sounding the next star”

Well I suppose,
I’m happy to go along with it
Be their voice for the poet,
If it means I get to eat,
My own foi gras, at their table
Just gorge on loathsome self.
I won’t even dine
I don’t need to
Because what the fuck do I know?