December 3, 2007

There are things I must do

There are things I must do
all of them terribly important
today they are terribly important
Certainly there’s a mown lawn
a clean car, a balanced checkbook
a collection of tasks
gleefully crossed off
one list or another
all leading to a future safely
lined with the comfort of having finished
so many very important things

But in the meantime
Where is the art?
When will the poems be written?
Where is the love?
Who will teach me to play music — and when?
And what will the children remember?


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A Madness Permeates the Air Years ago, and sometimes still, I recorded my dreams in a little spiral notebook kept near the bed. The first page of the book contains, written
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why can’t I go insane the way other poets do? why not blame them for this mess? why not find the same excuses and follow faeries into the darkened