a  fragment

 

When you forget how to be a poet

and your days are full of dirty diapers and bottles and slobber

and empty of the poetic or lovely or worthy of verse;

 

When you forget the beauty of language

and your ears are full of whines and cries and I wants

and no beautiful sound drops into your life or your page;

 

 

any workshop-esque thoughts?

I'd love to hear from you!

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