I want to write like Lawrence Ferlinghetti.
Deep, stretching, edgy poems.
I want to write of flaming injustice,
furious poverty; things that matter,
provoke, confound, inspire. Warn.
Or at least summon up the
unusual–the clever thing you’ve
never heard quite like this before.
I want fierce brilliance like his.
But I can only write what I know.
My angst is small and ordinary.
No poverty here, save that of
Just a life pieced together
with many a backward glance.
A bumblebee in a flower,
a sound in the trees,
a moment that sticks.
That’s all I know, and
it will have to do.
Ferlinghetti is safe.
A Favorite QuoteLife is really simple but we insist on making it complicated. ~ Confucius