On poetry

Staring at a blank page
looking for meaning in a thumbtack.

I once knew a poet
he said he wrote for you.

Butterfly cheesecake, goose pimple madonna, Walter Cronkite stew
Was he lying?

Everything I’m thinking
has already been said.

2 dollars and 15 cents, a paperclip and a stick of chewing gum
The hair that separates tyrant from visionary
Apple juice recklessly pissed on paper

Old poets die young
murdered by prose and cons

I once was a poet.