I have not been thinking

of certain things.

 

Like not watching the news

because dead babies

and brutalized animals

make me suicidal

or murderous – really.

 

Like poems I can’t write

because the genius

is not there.

About the sacrilegious wish

to write like someone else.

 

…or homeless people who

scare me back to the day

I became one of them,

to days of butts from the street,

money from strangers

more frightened than me.

 

…and then there is suicide – that

most personal of murders;

about being saved

because some women,

children and a dog

made room in a lifeboat…

 

well, that last part – I think of

them everyday, and always

remember to put flowers

on the dog’s grave.

 

  http://youtu.be/G_3jG5VrHDI