What Can I Say
What can I say that I have not already said?
What can I feel that I have not already felt?
Where are these poems coming from?
Is this all from one voice?
I recognize myself not.
What can I do to impress myself?
Wild laughter now.
Wild crazy, insane, terrible laughter
From the bowels of one who is yet
even faintly amused.
I resign myself to throwing more stuff on a page,
hoping to like something. Push my chair back,
which gets caught on sixty-five pages of junk
I did not like, which are now under the wheel.
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