For Yoko

Oh Yoko! What makes them say such things?
Are you the foil to their ignorance?
Every crime of every artist?

   The angry dream they dream
      when they refuse
   to pay attention?

            Do they even KNOW you?

You'd think they'd appreciate the invitation
into your home! to your underwater boulevards

        that John pissed himself to find!

They love to cut your clothes off,
they could cut someone else's clothes
for much cheaper, but they hate

your body.     But I know

  what the 'Yes' piece
 was talking about,
  what people stepped gingerly
 up ladders for,
  only to think they'd wasted time

   for a word
 on a piece of paper.

That grapefruit was not the garnish
  of an empty plate,
              it meant something,
   it was the
BEST BREAKFAST EVER!,

Yoko! Your art is fruit
from your swollen breasts,
junkie's breasts, lennon's penis
radiant starbombs dangling
from the furure's erotic heart!

Oh Yoko! You two were in love,
How can they blame you?
Was your love merely incidental?
Is your art an accident?
Was your life a short, false trip through fame?