EASY DOES IT 2
It is too easy to be a poet
as you begin to flow
it dissolves into tears
across the page like warring
pencils have driven to feuding
the legacy of my mind’s eye.
I look and go wall-eyed
such is the education you
drive me to endure.
Cross-linked and dressed
like a cold September night
it does not refute the symbolic
leaning of my present tension
against the leaves of your periodical’s
press.
