I don’t know what happened.
One day I sat down to write a poem
and I did not recognize the language
I was putting down on the page.
And so I just sat there and criticized it to death
for being so meaningless,
for not giving me a hot spot to exploit
and turn into a strategy for eliciting
Hooray! At some point I forgot how to write
and I now had to learn to all over again
without guideposts to help me along.
“I” would need to step into my symbols
and trust them to change me into discernible places
from here on in,
into a guy with a knack for flaunting failures
as if they were purple hearts
given to all surviving members of
the Special Forces fall over your own feet unit.