One writes to work out
personal problems.
One submits because one wants to share a vision.
What you’re sharing can’t be just hobgoblins.
One submits because one wants to share a vision.
What you’re sharing can’t be just hobgoblins.
You wince when you go through old photo albums,
or after you're done waiting for the incision,
but you try to prevent embarrassment problems
or after you're done waiting for the incision,
but you try to prevent embarrassment problems
in the writing. Not that you're expecting fulsome
praise, as you preen and resist revision—
sharing nothing but smarmy hobgoblins.
praise, as you preen and resist revision—
sharing nothing but smarmy hobgoblins.
But won't you feel so awesome
when your necking becomes petting
and you find you've written a poem whose problems
when your necking becomes petting
and you find you've written a poem whose problems
are are even more personal than your own: your
love will blossom
into a singular situation—nuclear fission
on a personal level, blasting your atoms into radioactive hobgoblins.
But the arena crowd is shouting:
Foxes or vixens!into a singular situation—nuclear fission
on a personal level, blasting your atoms into radioactive hobgoblins.
and your pen will finally have drawn a right rendition
of your butt, writing to work out personal problems,
knowing you’re sharing some pretty hot hobgoblins!
