At 4AM I awoke with sad thoughts
about the poetry communities.
I write and it keeps me from tearing myself down.
Would I still write if I were completely happy?
I write and it keeps me from tearing myself down.
Would I still write if I were completely happy?
Green green grass of home with
my mammy and my pappy.
Don’t want to always be wearing a frown,
but at 4AM I awoke with sad thoughts about the poetry communities.
Don’t want to always be wearing a frown,
but at 4AM I awoke with sad thoughts about the poetry communities.
If serendipity worked for me,
I’d drive back up to that old gold rush town,
Cripple Creek, where the happy
I’d drive back up to that old gold rush town,
Cripple Creek, where the happy
miners danced all night to Sweet Betsy
From Pike and Oh My Darling Clementine,
and at 4AM I’d remember my duty to write and be goldenly happy.
From Pike and Oh My Darling Clementine,
and at 4AM I’d remember my duty to write and be goldenly happy.
That would be pretty altruistic
of me, right?—just wanting to share my happy grin—
nothing in it but selfish fun for me, really. Have the poetry communities
of me, right?—just wanting to share my happy grin—
nothing in it but selfish fun for me, really. Have the poetry communities
fooled me into making and accepting false promises?
Vonnegut said, burn your perfect poem.
That helps me go back to sleep at 4:30AM,
almost completely happy.
Vonnegut said, burn your perfect poem.
That helps me go back to sleep at 4:30AM,
almost completely happy.
