I promise to change my habits
To read medicine jars, the prose of Yeats,
Sincere things without assurances.
I want only the galvanized electrolysis
Of commercials and politics.
Who needs all this camphor smelling
19th century loneliness?
Goodbye Keats.
Goodbye Fingal and Armand Schwerner.
Goodbye Walt.
I don’t need a brother.
I’ll go alone into the mineral dark.
I carry armloads of books to the trash.
I can’t see poisoning someone else with the stuff.
Goodbye Robert Frost
(The loneliest poet
Who ever lived, though there’s Lorca …)
For kicks I say good riddance to Gustav Mahler
Who was as friendless and musical as rain…
Giving Up on Poetry
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