Dionysos and Dulcineas

[busker]

If the navel belongs to a Dulcinea.

When there is no booze or attractive women, there is no poet, there is no selfless saint, there is no selfish monster, there is nothing.

Pure rubbish. This is the sort of statement that should see the statement-maker put in stocks and have rotten fruit thrown at him, metaphorically speaking.

A poet cannot engage in endless self indulgence, like a politician. There are rules against that sort of thing.

---

You all would be on your own:
But for Dionysos and Dulcineas,

I'd have no mind for terrorism
or heart of compassion.

Stray leopards, raspy coyotes,
we screech and prowl in bramble.

What I particularly dislike is this section.
The poet goes from addressing his particular situation to the reader ('you'), but then returns immediately to 'I'd have no mind..'
It's as if he is compulsive attention seeker.

The poem up to this point is nice, and the ending is interesting. Maybe keeping it addressed to 'you' rather than ceaselessly self referencing would make fewer readers see red.

That's my take. I can be wrong, because I am not a respectable scientist who's never wrong.