the american poetry review

a writer's life
is papered
with rejection slips;
not the first,
won't be the last;
they're only poems,
not hearts.

just an old dope
with no words left, baby;
you will do better
next time.

most writers end that way,
out of words,
nothing left,
as Billy Collins said,
to compare
anything to anymore;

just talking to themselves
in a dark room:

occupational hazard.

June 22, 2009.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

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