all the poems (20161209)

every poem should be a love poem
not because there’s so much to love
but because it may be the last poem

i’m not being fatalistic
this isn’t about the grim reaper
hovering behind us all
although, of course, he is

no, what if this is the last poem
what if the words dry up with
the next sunrise
what if it’s last tango for
the fingers and keyboard
it’s not as if i have anything
important to say, nothing that
anyone needs to hear or wants to hear

what if what if what if
the next words the next ink
the next electrons cluttering the
snow white screen make as much sense
as egyptian hieroglyphics to
an albino pet store parakeet

someone excavate the feeling out of this
obscure and amateurish babbling
it all comes down to my love
whatever it’s worth

that’s what these words are
that’s what these words roar
that’s what these poems are

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