For my upcoming retirement from poetry, I'm planning on bequeathing my poems, including juvenalia and drafts to the highest bidder. In fact, I don't even want cash. I'll take a used book of non-fiction.
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Update: I've got some sestinas circa 1997 or so that have never been seen by human eyes. I'll throw them in at no extra charge!
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7 comments:
I promise to keep them in a firesafe box somewhere, and at the age of 85 sell them for millions and use the money to start a shelter for stray cats possibly named jeff.
Do I win? I have many books to choose from.
I hope you're not serious.
Goddamn it, Tony, if you stop writing poems I promise to hunt you down and shoot you with a potato gun loaded with marshmallows.
My mind warps and bends floats the wind count to ten
meet the twin Andre Ben. welcome to the lion's den
original skin many men comprehend
I extend myself so you go out & tell a friend
Sin all depends on what you believing in
Faith is what you make it that's the hardest shit since MC Ren
Alien can blend right on in wit' yo' kin
look again 'cause I swear I spot one every now & then
It's happenin' again wish I could tell you when
Andre this is Andre y'all just gon' have to make amends
I'm tellin' ya, it's all about the OutKast lyrics.
check out my blog and tell me if I win!!
http://ronsaik.blogspot.com/
You seriously, seriously better be joking. Poetry requires you if not you it.
I'm all about supplying Steve with marshmallow amo. I'll sell things to keep them coming. It will be a terrible pillowy slow, slow death. Think about it.
Stop!
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