Where Are They Now? Lost Poets of the 70's: J.D. Whitney's Bad Ass Handlebars
Well, this may be it, folks. There are some unsnarked photos in the anthology still, but I don't know if any of them fit the bill for our "Lost Poets" series. I've been loathing posting the last of these, because it's by far our most popular feature here at the Snark, and I have no idea what I'll replace it with. Lost poets of the 80s? Anybody got an anthology with some good pictures? Anyway, on to today's bard: J.D. Whitney.
J.D. is short for Jack Daniels Whitney. He was kicked out of the Hell's Angels for tatooing a crown of sonnets onto a fellow Angel's back while he slept. They would have let it slide, but the sonnets employed too many metrical exceptions and didn't even rhyme (most bikers are "New Formalists"). Downtrodden, J.D. took a job with the cast of Lavern and Shirley as Lenny's stunt double. But the job didn't allow enough creative freedom, and Squiggy was a real dick. So Whitey quit and took to the road on his chopper with a knapsack full of verse and a bad attitude. Arrested in Boise for ripping off a liquor store while reciting Keats, J.D. wrote this poem from prision, where he languishes, reliving those halcyon days of hot poetry groupies and the long open road.
I'm counting on all our fearless snarkers to chip in on this one. Please explicate J.D.'s masterpiece for us, and while you're at it, what do you think was on his mind when this photo was taken? Or when he decided to use is as his author photo in the anthology?