Chicken Scratch Inadequacy
Why am I so afraid to put words on a page?
They might not come out write.
I might mess things up.

What if my poems are devoid of image and life?
Like the sterile supermarket.
Bland rows of colorful merchandise, food.
With a chill that sandaled feet cannot escape.

how’s my
line struc
tur
e
?

And as far as rhyme goes
I haven’t the slightest clue.
The difference between poem and prose
is still a concept quite new.

Surrealism is a crash into the slop of reason
one that drives dogs to no goodbyes or hellos
and word decks confuses the muses
in frequent metaphorical plainness, or complexity.

Do you get the point?
Poetry is not my strong point.
But still I press deeper its point
like a knife, until I am at the point
when I can’t handle any more points.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to write
such beautiful poems
as the ones I read at Borders,
or be published by anything but my printer,
but I think that I might be ok with that.