Don't write
poetry on spare leaflet
papers. or napkins,
or your palm, a desk, any wall,
not in the solid-blue
notebook
that you bought last week.
Don't write
poetry at night, in the morning,
or at any time
in the afternoon.
Don't write poetry about
life, your grandparents, your dead dog,
or the revelations that creep out
from the pores of your skin
late at night.
If you want to be famous,
don't write poetry,
swallow it.
put your efforts into
the shadows beneath your eyes
the tone of your muscle
the sound of your voice
and how you look
on-screen
as unprofessional as it is to put first-draft work in view of the public eye, here it is.