What earthly good is the poet?
He spins webs of words just to show it.
It takes up his time,
Is no good for a dime,
He’ll just shuffle a thought and then blow it.

I shuffle through acres of poems
Trusting when I see good ones I’ll know ‘em.
Then finding a gem
That electrocutes whim
So, transfixed, my heart pounding,
From Facebook and tweeting,
I'll copy and save,
On my blog write a rave,
And in emails distribute and stow 'em.