Today
I have no time
For poetry and such
Today I must make bookcases
To make space for some of
This poetry
A-floor.

I’m tired
Of tripping up
On Kipling and Bukowski
And all of the Nav Works Bloggers
I will break my poor heart
For my poor art
Sometimes.

But not
My neck, not yet
Not too young to die now
But en-tir-er-ly too busy
To pop my clogs over
A pile of books
Unread.

16th March 2008