I am a poet, but I don’t get paid for it.
I write poetry almost everyday.
I set aside time for when my soul wants to speak and wants me to be quiet and listen.
You must oblige your soul, I’ve learned. She is very persistent.

I’ve turned trees into sestinas.
I’ve turned funerals into pantoums.
I’ve learned the language of poetry, often without need or want for end rhyme.

While I love the verse and meter, I don’t love most poetry.
The self-titled-modern-masters write in such a way that is lost on me, and I think if those masters were honest, they’d say their work is lost on their audience as well.

Unfortunate, really.
Poetry was once the voice of the people.
Now there’s E! News.

If poetry is only read,
produced and understood by the editors of Poetry Magazine,
Then … (This line has already been filled in by 100 publications)

I’m not calling myself a master.
No, please don’t follow that thread.
Instead, I’m calling it like I see it,
You see, poetry is dead.

My beloved is surely dead.