remnants of poetry and scribbles
recalling from somewhere distant
the feel of pen on paper for miles and miles
remember reading eliot
and not identifying with prufrock
weren't you young?
invincible?
now it's like talking about michelangelo
and you know j. alfred
like you know yourself
because he is yourself
how did it all happen so soon?
this sliding downward toward
inadequacy?
we can't all be eliot
but you could be something
if you'd stop all this giving up
all the time
No comments:
Post a Comment