Poets are a funny tribe — scaling heights by plumbing depths;
my pages lay fallow my pen wadi dry
I’ve written through my saltwatered time &
my concepts are crystals cutpolished for clarity and shine &
Gee Dubbya isn’t president &
I’ve been too busy fucking to write a poem
Oh sure the world still injustices and needs a poet’s utter
& sure some ideas may need a spit & shine &
lovescars can crack again like bones brittled by breaks & bruises;
life can offer kernels poetic from places unseen &
no doubt it will
but today today today
I’ve been too busy fucking to write a poem
& yes Erato you can be the ficklest bitch
amused to be wooed
with sacrifices of salt & blood
but today today today
I’ve been too busy fucking to write a poem
& it looks like it’s gonna be
that way
tomorrow
