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.