Friday, September 25, 2009
DREAMS cough up stories startling poets into finding pens.
Fumbling for a light switch.
ANY KIND: cardboard, envelopes, business cards, junk mail.
A notebook is called "getting lucky."
If I was a real poet I would sleep on paper and feel LUCKY all the time.
But then I would still have to find a pen.
I would BE the pen.
A garden of words my fortress, or my folly. both.
but what to-do about having ink?