One Poem by Denis LeCavalier

Billy Goat

As tuned in,
when he was young
and talented as a criminal;
animal,
wild in the city streets.

He has chops
in the underbelly.
Not a moss pebble,
but a bright star
straining though rationalities just,
and burnt endings
for a pleasing few.

He is most at home
when the sun is down.

And in the night,
slaughter house.
Traditionally off key
and a bit of
the Billy goat,
the ladies love him,
ferociously.

Bad guy
with mad eyes,
seeing stars
in city skies.

Footstep,
a nightly jaunt
his everything,
absolutely.

{Poem by Denis LeCavalier}