The Business of Poetry

I’ve been a poet time + times,
I’ve made exactly zero dimes.
I’ve seen more wise things said by mimes,
Although I have penned many rhymes —

I’m not quite sure if “poetry”
Is a cognate for “poverty”,
But both are much like puberty
In that they’re very hard on me.
In truth: a sort of lunacy,
That’s soon reduced to parody.


The moon and sun were out last night,
They hadn’t met for days —
No sooner did they meet, then they
Both went their separate ways.

It’s like some friends, or marriages:
That’s just the way things are —
But satellites can still reflect
Upon a late lost
Star


I used to hear the singing stars at night.
I used to feel the swaying of the trees —
I’d dine and drink both star- and candlelight,
And taste the very fabric of the breeze,
As lonely gulls cried out across the way:
Back when I had the sense to sense
The day

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2 Thoughts to “The Business of Poetry

  1. I thought we were suppose to get wiser with age. It just seems like I work harder to get nowhere. I used to dream of fame and glory, now I just dream of sleep.

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