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.

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