I
Might quit
what’s not any kind
of business. Cowboys,
Cowgirls! rein yr high
-strung horses
in, loose syllables. I
have a family
that can’t depend on me.
II
My last poem will look something like this,
but lean; a withering away
of the Self;
disciplined,
not this kind of rubbish.
thank you , John. Not my worst.
the title was supposed to have a line scored across the words Ever and Day, btw; it’s as if the writer, reconsidering, ruled out Ever as too harsh, and Day as too soft. So it’s the worst poem of the week.
Except that it’s not