Here's a smaller sample:
The Education of Narcissus
From the jacuzzi, wreathed in scented foam,
He steps with his blow-dryer and his comb
To face that altar where all things are clearer,
To wit, his dressing table and his mirror.
He takes his inspiration and direction
By summoning the muse, his own reflection,
The which, in gratitude, he sweetly kisses,
This self-made-god, our latter-day Narcissus.
The poetry he writes, and thus inspires
Among his postulants, no more requires
A love of words or duty to the past
Beyond the headlines of the Tuesday last,
No binding strictures such as rhyme or meter
Or any length in excess of his peter,
The one tool of his trade he thinks so rare
He keeps it to himself, and will not share.