the miseries of poetry

it can't fix anything,
poetry; it can only sit
in the mind or on paper and
tell or show with words. it can't
change anything really, unless
it's read and even then i
wonder and worry if
people 'get it.
got it. good.'

the miseries of poetry
is that it is by nature
finite and incomplete -
always.

good poetry depresses me;
poetry that makes me smile is good;
bad poetry still somewhat interests me;
poetry that makes me laugh is the top.

the miseries of poetry are that it is
but a glimpse,
out of the corner
of your eye.