On Poetry Blogs Gone Amuck (or, Tanka Stanzas for My Fellow Posers)

On Poetry Blogs Gone Amuck
or, Tanka Stanzas for My Fellow Posers
(tanka)

we flaccid poets
wrinkled, wrung out, hanging out
pond scum flung on logs
by wind or waves or self-will
drying silly webs of muck

someone, jar this dam
send our sore attempts to sky-gaze
back down awkward bark
back just underwater, there
that's better than being chapped

submerge the sudden
urge to leap and stretch yourself
like paper mache
again across the ingrate
wooden skeletons

the haiku fishies
swirl trustingly beneath you
unused to tanka
succulent prizes, should you
just agree to be the bait