Poetry is kind of a garbage art, isn’t it, I ask.
Like, if you don’t have anything to say in a formative way,
You move from prose to a form where anything
Can be a ‘sentence,’
Pandemonium in lieu of punctuation
(There, I could have said, “Punctuation to pandemonium,” but I’m going to
Pretend a more lyrical alternative occured naturally),
Pretentious, you know I hate pretentious people.
Yeah, you say, but poetry is anything you want it to be.
I’m not entirely convinced, even as I think about mediums
With which to share my ‘talents,’
My unsung ‘masterpieces’
(Or masturbatory, self-flagellating tripe, eyeroll, somewhat wistful sigh),
Even though I learned from ten minutes of Googling that
Anyone who thinks they can get a blog or book of poetry published
Without years of yearning and dedication and dragging
Themselves to coffee houses and other places
Other people (but not you, you arrogant fuck) gather for this very reason
Is an asshole.
(You think your garbage is so much better
Than other people’s garbage?
Who are you,
Oooh, edgy. I’m sure this will be a meaningful call-out
Rather than a nobody shouting into a void. The void?
There are probably different voids
Depending on how famous you are.)
Stringing thoughts together into
Can be difficult,
Especially if you eschew the advice of most people,
Mostly because talking too much about the ‘craft’ of writing,
Of ‘being a Writer’
Is secondhand embarrassment personified.
Tangental thoughts and observations and feelings
Can be rerouted and reorganized
(You do love organization)
In a different way.
If your headspace has more space
For other, non-tangential, formative things,
Putting those thoughts, et al down,
Whatever the medium,
Maybe means poetry isn’t the most garbage form (ha) of art
I should just get comfortable
Sorting through the trash