One of my favorite poems, All-Time category:

Glitter 

— by John Tranter
 

Another fuckwit drops into the dustbin 

of history, just as we’re finishing our coffee. 

Some of us are meant to burn out, is that 

right? Like roman candles, across the night sky. 

I want to go up like a tree, not a rocket. 

I’d like to get drunk disgracefully 

with a favorite niece, and grow old 

among an amplitude of footnotes. 

Pour me another Pernod, Famous Poet, and 

tell me again about the doomstruck literati, 

those dropouts immortalized in ink — your 

thirst, your secret greed, your mausoleum. 

(click on the photo below)