someone, not me,
turned the spigot on,
let the poetry run and run...

been awhile, reasons many

breathless at discovering
so many master mistress
poets trumping the
best I ever read,
best I ever gave,
happy pushes me
to give it a rest,
800 plus, fairly spent,
but someone,
probably you,
turned the spigot on,
made my poetry leak,
then seek
to float to the top,
this, trite not tight, missive,
just a remarque,
on the dangerous side of
poetry reading,
it leads you down the street,
where the dealer offers you
multivitamin treats,
**** the writing addiction
just comes back full flushed

shoot. soon enuf
be writing love stuff,
can anyone shut that
spigot off....