random notes (feeling inclined)

to all the poets
sitting on all the empty streets -
thinking less fondly about
the world, this crowded field, this box

to all the poets
standing atop cigarette buts - twisting
turning - their thoughts inward -
their insecurities, predjudices
awes and experience
their love, passions - pressing
out their definition of this
humanity -
on all those envelopes, palms, napkins -

writing about its sorrow
about its limited joys
about its glorified egos
about its depression, oppression, obsessions
- about it guinea pigs and rats - about its puppets
- feeling inclined to scribe the unfortunate
the misfortunes
to let the world know of its weaknesses, its faded beauty - its fate
to let the world know how we all feel -
the same

to all the poets
who speak for the masses - writing history as it happens
carrying out their "obligations" to
their fellow beings - their gods - their loved ones - their comrades
- oh amie! dear lover - to whom it may concern -
let me be the one to carry the cross
to bend my fingers backward
to bang my head to the wall - to script it all

to all the poets
who set aside their comforts -
that lie their motives on the table
their inhibitions - pains - misgivings

to all the poets
who fear what we all should fear:
ourselves

to all the poets
who dabble in battle with - understanding
and run it through their hand - through their pen
to "eek" out the last of their ink
on the last of their paper
all to let the world know -

to all the poets

To Logan