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and post notes and photos about your poem like David Crandall.
I've been obsessing about this silly poem (probably one of my worst). Here's the strange reason. I posted it and then deleted it, feeling empathy toward the poets I was reading here, who, to their credit, are more sensitive than me. These poets, write about, what I think is the best thing to aspire toward - beauty, and create beauty in doing so. I'm a bit challenged in that area, but I hope I've achieved some limited success. I was thinking, why would I subject anyone to this ****. Then, after deleting it, I got an email saying someone had commented on it. Yet, I couldn't read the comment because I had deleted the poem. After too much thought, I've decided to re-post this throwaway poem that is actually a dream, which I converted to a poem upon waking, making it a Halloween poem to assuage my guilt.. Why re-post? Because, I have an informal commitment to myself to write, as unfiltered as possible, whatever, pops into my vile, depraved brain. Yes, I may want to revisit the wisdom of that pact (to be continued). Sometimes, I try to understand why I dreamt whatever I dreamt. In this case, it's not hard for me to understand. I am the delivery man, I am the birds, and I am the recipient. It's a long story, but I recently bought a Ford Transit cargo van. Someone once asked me if I thought that all the characters in anyone's dream are actually different aspects of the dreamer. I don't think so, but it was an interesting question.