Len Gurts Suffers (And Develops Awareness!)

I don’t want to write about it today, please.
Could I just leave it for once?
I want to be sparse. I feel sick with the writing.
I feel sick watching the writing come.

I think one day
this part of me will disappear
and I’ll enjoy someone else’s poems sometimes; but mostly

I’ll just be very content and quiet—in it—

perhaps smoking on my long board like this guy
out the window here

not needing to care about cadence—being heard.

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