My finest work, to be honest,
the thousands of slick,
four-color pages and fold-outs
supporting myself, my wife,
two sons and a home,
selling life insurance and security
bonds, selling porta-toilets
and hard cheese, selling faith,
reassurance and calm.
I’ve lit candles for clients
and prayed for their welfare
and prayed for their business,
and for years I’ve prayed for the copy
and the copy has come, well-
hacked and sweated, typing the words
that work for these artful books,
songs of myself, each one
my best shot,
none of them signed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
fine poem though. Makes me think you're not writing about yourself.