so what if the guy asked
how do you write good poetry
ok
let me make it clear
i don’t know i do
i just know my stuff
doesn’t fit the form of crud
poetry’s a whole mind thing
all the cast
all the arts
don’t censor
the warped idea from underneath
that’s the treasure
trying to consciously construct
a clever trick
just consciously constructs
a bus made of brick
these poems
this conversation
of talking to myself
seriously
is raw
too raw for edit
i’m too raw to edit too
give me a year
of emotional sudso
other poets
other people
have other ways
ask them