I found a poem many years ago, “Wondering what they are up to in the
middle of the night,” by Mario Milosevic. I’m not a regular
consumer of poetry, but I love this poem.
Maybe I should read more poetry. Maybe I should write some.
Or maybe not.
Or maybe I will, but nothing I’d share here
not out of shame
nor out of greed
it’s something on which I’ll spend many hours and weeks
using a real pen
a pilot g-tec-c4
and real paper
a “quad-ruled” composition book
(five squares per inch)
and then I’ll tear up the paper into small pieces
and eat them