Like a team of highly trained but poorly motivated dwarfs
Lashed securely to the front of this pushcart of a life
My dreams in post-card form
Form cardboard posts under my dreams
It leaves me borrowing consonant and verb from the tiny isle of my understanding
Participle and paragraph flow without source from the fountain
of a hard day in the weariness of a hard day's night
And the elves are dancing when they should be pulling
And I'm pushing when I should just be riding
And this stupid wagon is functioning a lot more like a scooter than it should
And sometimes it makes me want to cuss
And if those damn elves would just pull this pushcart like they're supposed to
Then I would never buy these post-card dreams to remind me where I'm supposed to be.
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My friend, you could seriously and successfully get these published in some 'zine. I tried, but all they wanted was free verse. I thought, at first, "How stupid. Free verse is fecal. I hate it. I hope the guy who came up with it doesn't make it into heaven. It's like free jazz. Structure, dammit!" But then, I read some of your poems, and I like free verse now.
ReplyDeletebrilliant it is :)
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