Poetry Takes Ears To Perfect And Guts To Perform

After the Master of Fine Arts
Calls your pen name to the spoken word stage
Ask everyone how it’s hanging
Even the eunuchs

Say you want to tell Walt Whitman
It gets better

Wait for a pause

Gregorian chant like a Benedictine punk
The worst line of the best poem
You’ve never written

Make nothing
Rhyme with orange

Share your truth
Without gazing too long
At your navel

Halfway through a moment of silence
Shout into the mega microphone
At the flop of your tongue—

Poetry takes ears to perfect
And guts to perform

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Author: chuck_snoad

I am a poet, philosopher and cultural critic living with depression.

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