7 may. 2007

I'm very invested in my poetic work as work, but very little invested in it as a "body of work," or as something demonstrating that I'm a poet. I don't want the ego of a poet, or the self-definition. The narcisissism of it all. Who needs that.

I ruined your make up
You left my notebook out in the rain
You sanded down the head of my snare drum
I left coffee grounds on the counter

You derived pleasure
I ate your stale leftovers
I derided your niece
You saw “Throne of Blood” without me

I gave your parents a wilted houseplant
You ate my soup without giving thanks
You forgot to fulfill my dreams
I risked the life of your friends

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