I think I’ll just leave you A little more alone about it from now on and Not attempt to slip any more poems under your door Or in your face or email folder or coat pocket. You can still find them when you’re in the mood.
It’s factual enough my work’s depressing, even to myself. Now even though I express it to relieve it, I still shouldn’t belabor or weary any worthy reader Who’s apt to feel the foreignness and the horror of it And would prefer to evade the tiresome honor of it. I can’t blame you.
rcs.
Current draft: 3/8/2010 Created on 3/8/2010 2:45 PM |
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Abandon hope, all ye who enter here! (At least put on your socks and pants.)