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Poetic Leaks

by Kevin T. McEneaney
Tue Aug 8th, 2017

Of late administrative problems

have obstructed constant production of poetry.


Poetry is not a production

but a product of the unconscious.


I have rescheduled writing times

and locations to address this problem.


He has no writing schedule

and writes on scraps of paper.


Some of these leaks are either

false or at best inaccurate.


The unconscious may not be accurate

but it does not habitually lie.


As a rule I write three drafts:

one on paper, two at the computer.


He has no idea at all about this:

sometimes it’s one draft, sometimes a dozen.


My favorite image is the small pond

across the road from my home.


He is a compulsive opportunist

using the few images he can manage.


I write while listening to classical music,

jazz, or sometimes even the blues.


He writes listening to children’s programming

like Thomas, PJ Masks, or Bob the Builder.


Some of my poems employ strict rhyme

while others occasional rhyme, yet some don’t rhyme.


He makes grandiose statements

that mean absolutely nothing.


My favorite poets are Homer,

Shakespeare, and Emily Dickinson.


His favorite poets are his Ego,

his Memory, and his Imagination.


Poetry is the Art of the Impossible

and the activity of the Inexpressible.


Poetry is the practice of masochistic failure

and nearly the absence of dignified composure.