I wanna tell you-
don’t be dissuaded by morning poems.
Don’t read them
and think you don’t got it
and can’t get it.
Things like morning poems don’t mention
the fight you had last night.
They don’t mention hungry cats
stepping on the keyboard,
hungry babies or hungry kids.
Morning poems don’t include your own coffee stomach-
they effortlessly glide over you and all that stuff-
doesn’t it seem like they’re mostly concerned
I read morning poems and I feel useless.
When I look out my window,
I couldn’t point to a hyacinth.
Nothing but trashcans-
my heart is not joyful.
What does a sunrise do,
what does a metaphor do,
I went to a bookstore here in LA,
and here everywhere has tons of chapbooks,
millions of first-edition zines
that never saw a second.
It’s very easy to sell by consignment here-
but nobody is buying.
And a lot of them are filled with morning poems.
Now I’m not a critic, but I’m a person and
I didn’t buy any. I thought-
“What is a poem about
mountains in the spring,
dewdrops and rivers,
lilacs and cattails
ever going to do for me?”
I bought a postcard of Bukowski for 99 cents-
a man who knew he was ugly
and didn’t write any morning poems.
I taped it on the wall to remind me
not to feel useless about morning poems
and to tell you not to, either.