I guess i’m just a small poet…


Staring at the jungle that is the page

trying to understand?

How the words come out endlessly

and yet I can’t comprehend?

Why modern poetry is dead or so they say

And yet I look to my friends…




blown out and obtuse

like the slip of the cock out of the hole

it’s just cum of the mouth i suppose

that’s printed in the Kenyon Review

and yet as i gaze so longingly

i can only hope — to be in there too…


About Michael Medlen

My name is Michael and during my free time I avoid having a day job. Strangely enough, this gives me the freedom to run this blog. I write just about anything that can be considered art. I also occasionally post articles that may or may not be relevant to the theme of this site. You’ve been warned.
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