My Lesson

This might be the primary difference
between myself and other writers.
I have a real hard time describing trees
maybe because I've never fucked one.
See, when people... Correction:
When YOU people write about trees,
sure, we know what you're trying to mean.
Trees are big, timeless, and symbols of
nature, nurture, or maybe even springtime rebirth.
By doing that, you're taking the reader,
me in this case,
out of the real world and into the world of
"poetic bullshit".
(I made that up. I hope you like it...)
In this world, poets live and
poets die and no one else really cares.
There are now and will ever only be three topics:
love, sex, and death.
That's it.
Chances are, you, as a poet, are trying to
understand love, get sex, and avoid death
through the "permanence of your work."
In rare moments of clarity, you're
getting love, avoiding sex, and understanding death,
as this is better for digestion.

I don't write words.
I write connections.
When you read me poems,
I want you to see my face,
however you choose to create it,
hovering just beyond the page.
("Hi. How ya doin'?")
I want you to know that
I'm going to try not to fuck with you,
but I'm coming right for your throat.

It's not a puzzle to solve.
It's not a secret society.
It's not a locked door.
It's an all-access pass
to me.