i. I count the rotations of the
ceiling fan (one, two, three)
and then the moments of
silence when the crickets
chirping inside my chest have
ii. It’s not the same as
counting the rise and
fall of your chest.
iii. I count my beating heart.
(Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.)
iv. All it screams is:
"You’re gone, you’re
gone, you’re gone.”
The first time we met I looked at you with
flying saucer eyes and tried to apologize
for the space I took up.
I have seen your eyes stop and
wander over the mountains of me
that are really just moles and the
scars that travel down my breasts
and up my thighs like evidence
of a lightning…
I sometimes write
your name in my tears
to remind myself even tears
can be things of joy,
that every time I yawn
and my eyes water
it means that soon
I will be dreaming of you,
that at my lowest,
I still have you to get high off of,
that if I’ve nothing else
I’ve your name to keep me company,
and your name alone
is enough to so brighten my heart
that it will be a beacon
guiding you home, to me.
Don’t do what all the other little buggers are doing.
Don’t try to make the poem look pretty. You’re not decorating cupcakes, Cupcake.
Don’t think you’re the only bastard who ever suffered — just write as if you were.
Don’t eat someone else’s lunch. For eat read steal. For lunch read wife. For wife read style.
Don’t be any form’s bitch.
Don’t think if you cheat on form or slip the meter, no one will notice. They’ll know and think you a fool. Don’t think it impossible to cheat on form. If you do it well, they’ll think you a genius.
Don’t think if you declare yourself avant-garde, your sins will be forgiven.
Don’t blubber if you never receive prizes. Look at the poets who won the Pulitzer fifty years ago. See who’s there. See who’s not.
Don’t think you’re special. Stand in a library amid all those poets who thought they were every inch the genius you think you are.
Don’t double-space your lines and think the poem better. It just takes up more room.
Don’t think regret is 20/20. Regret is myopic. Hope is astigmatic. Trust is blind.
Don’t think what you have to say is important. The way you say it is what’s important. What you have to say is rubbish.
Don’t think you don’t have to read. You read in order to steal. Read more, steal better.
Don’t think your poems are good because they sound good read aloud. Get your hearing checked.
Never write poems about poetry.
Don’t play to the audience. Your audience is full of dopes, cheeseballs, and Johnny-come-latelies — besides, they’re laughing at you all the way home.
Don’t think you’ve been anointed by early success. Look at the critical darlings of a hundred years ago. Look at the darlings of twenty years ago.
Never wish you were there. Wish you were here.
Don’t think you can ignore grammar. You need grammar more than grammar needs you.
Never eat the pie if you can own the fork.
Don’t think new is better. Don’t think new is not better. Don’t think, read. Don’t think, ink.
Poetry is the nude that stays nude.
Never write the first line if you already know the last. The best poem is the unwritten poem.
Don’t break the window before you look at the view.
Don’t think that if you have two manuscripts, you have two manuscripts. You have one manuscript.
Don’t eat jargon, because you’ll shit jargon.
Don’t think poetry is a religion. It’s more important than religion.”