To lay down and gaze up longingly at
the stars
Would be to make a landing pad of
myself,
To invite the wild, unschooled skies
and the rigid, unquestioning
authorities
Down with a cargo against which I hoped
the hardest.
It's not that I can't see the poetry in
adversity,
It's just that a poet who writes only
of suffering
Becomes a bore even to himself,
While I maintain an avid interest in my
own life.
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