I am not a poet for poets
My lines won’t stay straight under scrutiny
hands with skill will feel my ineptitude
fault lines of an idiot in the dark
*
drunkenly scratching sketches on the wall
if you look at no art, it looks like art
no art looks like my art next to good art
*
my scratching still tries for pretty pictures
listening to the paintbrush of life
and life with life sparks sound sparks soft motion
*
my better sweetly says “not bad, not bad.”
for I’m not a good poet for poets
but I am a poet’s poet all the same.