[reading poetry leads: to writing. often enough this]
reading poetry leads: to writing. often enough this
is not true, pretentious poets being what they are
and they cannot help it, I know. so I take the cue
promptly and run with it. David Sedaris’ new book
the one about the animals—naughty, what else?—is on
my mind: gay men comprising the theme today. loving
that so much, I can’t swallow the coffee for the humming
and the reading out loud and the anticipation. (Dave not hitting
the Kindle ‘til tomorrow; fuck, right there in the middle.) oh hell
with the gerunds. hitting. loving. not taking the ing out of humming
bird, I don’t care what. humbird. humbug.
So I am writing today, a poem, not reading
the other three articles for tonight. response due: today at 5
more things I should be doing. enjoying it so much,
so fuck-in-the-middle much, that I am swallowing. If you love it
that much. swallow, hummingbird, just swallow.
I am writing, today, poetry: I should say so
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Feel free to critique the poetry. I employ a sophisticated thick hide technology.