Goad19 Jan 2004

It's a 9 year old poem, written while I was wandering the west coast living from a backpack. I titled it so to poke fun at myself. My intentions are to try to learn to write a little bit of real poetry -- real things, real situations etc., a la your Woodsworth quote -- after many years of not writing. But instead I have a decided tendency to cop out and write in big abstractions like a teenager. So, I'm mocking my own big-P poems, as you called them, to try and send a message to the creative part of my brain (assuming it isn't wholy atrophied) that they aren't really what I want. That's probably more psychology than anyone wished to know, but hey you asked, and I'm an exhibitionist (figuratively only, of course).