Let's say you want to write a poem
yes?
a good poem maybe not ‘The Second Coming’ but
your hair is getting thin already and
where's your ‘Dover Beach’?
Everything seems somehow out of reach
no?
all of a sudden everyone's walking
faster than you and
you catch yourself sometimes staring not at girls
You live in at least two worlds
yes?
one fuzzy one where you always push
the doors that say pull and
one clear cold one where you live alone
This is the one where your poem is
yes?
no
It's in the other one
tear your anthologies into small pieces
use them as mulch for your begonias and
begin with your hands