Musings

Sometimes the rain beats down
and sometimes it doesn’t
Sometimes it’s radio static
or refrigerator hum

Poetry – real poetry
Isn’t written for poets
it’s written for the man
here to read the meter
or the boy fixing the roof

There’s poetry – and then
there’s still-born academic junk
and raging juvenile junk
and just plain junk

And if you have no opinions
maybe you should get some –
only the brain dead
should sit life out

.
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