The Poet’s Keeper

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.