Monday, March 3, 2025

Today, my horoscope told me
to do bad poetry, but I’m afraid
I don’t know how. I know how
to do bad penmanship. And bad
focus comes as naturally to me as
bad dreams. But bad poetry feels
like an impossibility, like bad
tacos or birthday wishes or laughter
or love. Once written, once shared,
it only exists in gradations of good.
So I guess the only bad poetry
I’ve ever composed are the lines
I’ve kept inside. And yes, I guess
I do know how and maybe it also
comes quite naturally and maybe
I did it yesterday and will again
tomorrow, but no, not today.

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