This poem has a hole in it
There's something I can't see...
Publisher’s Note: Today’s piece is a guest post fromwho writes You are Here , the life and letters of a Midwest Housewife.
This poem has a hole in it There’s something I can’t see The conceit is convoluted The enjambment is just Empty is the fishbowl We never did fill up We never got a goldfish, We only got a Puppy’s on the back porch Kitty’s on the chair If you haven’t got catharsis No poetry is there are no more answers - I was always told there were. We try to make connections But find we all must hurry Up please tell me I know which way it leans I’ve lost all rhyme or reason To the thing I thought it means I’ll never get it if I don’t Have all the dice. I’m only just one person and A footnote would be nice To know you’re leaving This poetic vacancy It’s leaking out hyperbole This hole I cannot see Me really trying to fix the Beatles’ roof A poem’s just a poem And the words are your own proof Of your existence and the plot that you were here I couldn’t make this bullshit up Without a few more Beers are really good for you Unless of course they’re not But I will toast to you and hope You never will be caught In your contraptions Of metaphor or rhyme, There’s a hole in this here poem That will only heal with time.
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