are you brave are you well-crafted
can your lines turn on a dime
can you shock us with the newness
can you summon the sublime

i don't think that I can do that
listen I'm just here to talk
all my poems are loose limbed weed dads
rambling on their daily walk

so you want a tree of purpose
so you want a tower of song
i guess you'll just be disappointed
for your journal i am wrong

every day a dozen enfants
break the world and glue it gold
i'm not one of the anointed
being careful, slow and old

submission guidelines do my heart in
like the shifting desert sands
bury me up to my boxers
blast the bland work of my hands