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I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.
i hate poets
i hate poets and their in-to-na-tion
i hate their formulas for the way words should sound
i hate their bookshelves packed with collected works of ts eliot or whoever they're supposed to like

i hate you

i hate that if you publish a book the world is so ******* interested in how you feel but when someone in the street is screaming their heart out about god or politics or just being nonsensical the world is more interested in putting them away

i have heard more beautiful, insightful, and entertaining diatribes from drunkards, fools, idealists, and madmen than from any ******* poet
this isn't sarcasm. this is reality. i don't care about your odes to broken hearts, introversion, and universality. none of you practice what you preach.
my mind is
a big hunk of irrevocable nothing which touch and
taste and smell and hearing and sight keep hitting and
chipping with sharp fatal tools
in an agony of sensual chisels i perform squirms of
chrome and execute strides of cobalt
nevertheless i
feel that i cleverly am being altered that i slightly am
becoming something a little different, in fact
myself
Hereupon helpless i utter lilac shrieks and scarlet
bellowings.
i have found what you are like
the rain,

            (Who feathers frightened fields
with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields

easily the pale club of the wind
and swirled justly souls of flower strike

the air in utterable coolness

deeds of green thrilling light
                                  with thinned

newfragile yellows

                      lurch and.press

—in the woods
                      which
                              stutter
                                        and

                                              sing
And the coolness of your smile is
stirringofbirds between my arms;but
i should rather than anything
have(almost when hugeness will shut
quietly)almost,
                  your kiss

— The End —