Pressure - April 12 2012

I have had some trouble writing lately. I think I have put to much pressure on myself, so now I’m just going to write because I love to write. I will forget about you, readers, no one likes pandering anyway. I will forget about me because I have discovered that to remember oneself is a dangerous business.

Writing a Poem (at last)

I will
attempt to amply alliterate abstract attitudes and answer artfully
the wonderings of man, woman, women, and men

I will
Say something about a woman’s thigh
because it has been agreed upon that thighs
Are  most evocative limbs
Poets extol them
Knowing this, it is strange that
The  magazine and on screen modelas are without
flesh

I will
Tear up pages
leaves
notes
notions
nations
and hide the pieces under a rock

I will
Color the pages with
turquoise
cinnamon
and blood

I will
write rhymes of
better times
higher climes
and clementines

Then in some sort of  rage, rip, roar
I will
put the fear of God in you
and walk quietly away.