I’m bored shitless with much (not all, but much) of the poetry I read today, including my own. And yet I continue to write the stuff. WTF.
But then, as Richard Lopez writes:
…let us go now and fail again
let us hold each heart
if each heart can beholden
most of all let us remember to
let the wild rumpus start
…and I guess that’s what it’s all about.