To whom it may concern;
As for poetry ...I am angered, ired and shaken, at the innocent, not so
innocent. So I kicked the dog and strangled the cat, engaged the universal - I
don't do this enough, Mr. Olympic I am not. Lost on Chess, chided and cursed
my PC, wasted time with TV. Read some pro poetry...Dickinson, Blake,
Roethke, and incited script. Seems all new has faded, fallen apart or been
bowdlerized.
Day's events unfolded comically as the cat barfed on the envelope containing
our school's requisition form. Wiped the slate clean and remained reticent on
the subject. Seems fitting for this to happen in hind site. I am pretty sure the
strangulation happened after she barfed, but nonetheless I shall aim to refrain
from punishing chat. Thank god for the comic relief.
My poetry opened up to Richard Cory, not so happy fella in 1897. This seems
fitting for many who live, as is The Unknown Citizen. The book is an old text
from University and is my only staple for good literature. Reading this text
helps the imagination and shows that even then humanity questioned whether
the days events were worthwhile happenings.
The dog is an old memory, chat still lives, my binding is cracked and secured
by duct tape. Very befitting.
Sincerely,
Me.
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