Friday, September 8, 2017

A Prose Poem for Today.

Dear Rhymin' Simon,

I send you this poem-ish bit of writing today, and I anxiously await your response, if not your approval. 

As I Was Going to St. Ives

I met a man in a coffee shop.  He wrote poetry and wore a leather short brimmed fedora.  He spoke of  his 40 years of rejections; said he didn’t care for abstraction in poetry.   
I did a double take, because I thought abstraction was all there was in poetry.  But, thinking more on it, I suppose I am wrong.
Another man I met was a designer; he said he knew I would like it, because it was conceptual; said he knew how I worked. 
I thought he was out of his mind, but reflecting further, I see that he was right; many of my works are composed by systems.
I met a third man, an ex-high school coach; said he would have loved to have had me as a discus thrower. 
This was an even more shocking notion.  I always duck when the ball comes my way, I told him; I am not what you think at all.