[…]


Larry Sawyer

I’m Going To Write a Poem for The _____* Review

The dog is dying across the hall and I’m going to write a poem for The _____ Review.

I’m a complete failure and I’m going to write a poem for The _____ Review.

God, it’s 12:33 and I’m going to write a poem for The ______ Review.

It’s all going according to plan, and I’m going to write a poem for The ______ Review.

In my dreams I’m rich and well-loved by the majority of the populace and my childhood was
satisfying and ok, and I’m going to write a poem for The _____ Review.

Maybe I still could hide the body and I’m going to write a poem for The ______ Review.

I’m crossing the Delaware and I’m going to write a poem for The ______ Review.

I’m now going to the fridge, which is still empty, and the light does not work, and I’m going to
write a poem for The ______ Review.

Jesus what happened to me, I’m going to write a poem for The ______ Review.

Just now another animal has gone extinct, and I’m going to write a poem for The _____ Review!

There are psychotics running this country and I’m going to write a poem for The ______ Review!

I’m probably gay and now I’m going to write a poem for The ______ Review!

Politicians are squashing the earth beneath the heel of their fascist boot and I’m going to write a
poem for The _____ Review!

I’m getting another headache and I’m going to write a poem for The ______ Review!

Mozart is creeping through the newspaper wall and I’m always going to be fucking alone and a
little self-conscious, worried and depressed, dissolving slowly on a white bed next to a screaming
television and a telephone ringing hello I say and then announce that I’m going to write a poem
for The ______ Review and the voice on the other side of that divide says

so what.

                                                                                                      *Paris, or other word

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