So Many Names, There Is Barely Room

It Seems Only Yesterday I Used To Believe There Was Nothing Under My Skin But Light. If You Cut Me I Could Shine.

There Are Just Long Gaps Where I Can't Find A Point Of Insertion, I Can't Find A Good Opening Line, I Can't Find A Mood That I Want To Write Into. But Once I Do, Once A Line Falls Out Of The Air, Or I Get A Little Inkling Of A Subject And I Recognize That, It's Like The Sense That A Game Has Started.

The Literary World Is So Full Of Pretension, And There's Such An Enormous Gap Between How Seriously Poets Take Themselves And How Widely They're Ignored By Everybody Else.

But Some Nights, I Must Tell You, I Go Down There After Everyone Has Fallen Asleep. I Swim Back And Forth In The Echoing Blackness. I Sing A Love Song As Well As I Can, Lost For A While In The Home Of The Rain.

All I Wanted Was To Be A Pea Of Being Inside The Green Pod Of Time.