| A Poem by A Poet Who Hates Poetry |
| Chitlins have always amazed me, Mostly because I never really knew what one was. That's been the way of things Of late (my whole life). Why must it be that the things I Don't Understand astound me? Keep me up nights? Why can't I be amazed By a flower, or shoelaces, or that Thing In the back of my throat? I get them. Or, Maybe I don't. Damn! This always happens to me, I think of one thing, then another, Soon, Even the ones that made sense Confuse me anew. Why can't I just understand Things? Maybe then, I could stop writing This confounded poem... And write an essay. |