the old flame and the dead hearth

 

i can’t build on sand

i can’t build on spit

i didn’t send you form poems

don’t send back a form letter

send back all the poems

say you’ve copied them

are using them all

you can’t build on clichés

can’t network with nitwits

if you want to get anywhere

i know the barks of all the dogs hereabouts

i know the 23rd bullseye which

is so ballsy of me i’ll admit

once a year whether it needs it or not

i clean the house & then others

 

Jonathan Levant