put it out of your mind, my ghost reads minds
now. go figure. and mine an open book.
monday and the mail, that goddam mail. last
rejection of the year — this one attached
to a reading fee I couldn’t afford
and nothing but a form letter telling
me zero in too many words. but that’s
the hoops poetry dogs have to jump through . . .
so I’m here at the drawing board, putting
words in lines and stanzas to keep my mind
off the brutality of the process
beyond production of verses, once my
babies go off to college, find their way
in a world bipolar about poetry.
David M Pitchford
5 Dec 2011