“You can’t just WRITE a poem whenever you damn well please.”
Okay.
I forgot:
they need to be nutritious to those that read them,
not to mention digestable;
they need to be print-worthy and so I can’t just
cover the page with agitated nervous-vomit
(how do you transcribe “chunk, chunk, smell of bile and apple pie, chunk”?)
they need to be about REAL THINGS that happen to REAL PEOPLE
but they can’t be FUCKING BORING like REAL LIFE REALLY FUCKING IS;
they can’t just be the word “ennui” repeated one hundred and thirty times
(yes, i have one of those)
but most of all
in order to tell them,
you have
to
be
able
to
speak;
something that’s avoided me in the past few months.
(You can consider this my “slump”, “nadir” or “downward spiral”.
I know I do.)
Advertisement
