Little beacons maybe

but still, a high shining upon.

Some band together like down-and-outers

scrounging for handouts:

the Frontliners, the Dirt Poets, the Smokin’ Crawdads,

the Primordials, the Midcoast Bushmen,

even the Moscow Conceptualists, poor sods,

with their tractor odes and spud songs;

others march in proud solitary

asking for nothing but the Muse’s favour:

Shelly, Giftus, Congo, Ras Mo, Billy Jno,

even sweet sentimental Edwina

immune to embarrassment.Come, let us celebrate them all,

those who write clean code

and the mau-mauing plumitifs

barkin at the open mike.

Little beacons maybe

but still, a high shining upon.