writing poetry
is a lot
like playing the
piano.

it takes skill and
practice,
but the best of us
seem to be
gifted with it.

as if god decided
we were going to be
another Beethoven
or
another Bukowski

too many people never
realize this,
and continue to play the
piano or write their
poems
and always thinking
yes
yes this next piece
is going to be
the one
the one that makes me
famous

they write and play
and cast their eyes downward
each time they get
rejected by the producers
or by the publishers

always saying to
themselves
ok
it’s ok
they just don’t know
what they hell
they’re talking about
I’m great
I’m still great
I just need my break-
through
I just need my first
masterpiece

these amateurs are not
to be disregarded
or
looked down upon
though

for without them
we would never find
the Beethovens
and
the Bukowskis

it takes a million fools
making their
cacophonies to the
wind
for the miracle to happen
and the master
emerge