November 2 by The Running Son
◦↶◦ Uh–oh… NaBloPoMo! ◦↷◦
Should I go for it? join the mix
and grind out daily poems?
What If I ain’t feeling the flow?
Or what if I suddenly just don’t know
and go spontaneously blank,
or buy in to the head-jabber that my trash
is national treasure, me blinking with grandiosity,
thanking every poet I see, and beaming
at sparkly things like a fourth-string pageant queen
with barely enough brain matter on display
to open jaw,
My poetry lately
feels like a piccolo out of tune,
like a funeral dirge,
or some minor movement
—a pasty graveyard fave!: drudgery
zero shades of grey; about one
fog-wimpy percent of my freaky writing capacity
by Jim Aldrich
.namaste. -• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •- .namaste.