Posted: April 20, 2010 in Uncategorized

i’m ashamed of everything i’m inspired to write
because somewhere, someone has thought this
exact thought and threw it aside or shook it out
of their heads, saying that it wouldn’t be worth
the paper it was printed on, not worth the ink
and scratch-outs and eraser smudges framing

i want to write myself a new life, a better script,
a happier ending, the multiple shames-on-me
stricken from the record, the embarrassing
lessons undone and shrunken to pithy one-
sentence aphorisms, like next time wait until
the food cools
or maybe he just isn’t that into
or why did you think a woman would be

i could handle my daily experiences on a big studio’s
budget, could control the mini explosions and scale
the deep depressions with some bungee cord and
a clever double, could shoot sparks out of my fingers
with my computer resulting in more than just poetry,
just prose, just thoughts, just words, just chaotic

  1. Robin says:

    Well done! Liked this a lot. You captured a very real feeling that we might share, but it’s you who put it down so well and so originally.

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