These
poets
All
these writers (a different thing, I think)
Are the
same same same
Goddamn
trick of the light
Then
one pops up and says
We need
more risk taking in poetry
More
anarchy
etc
etc
Well
yeah, shit
Problem
is all those who adhere to a good old
Fuck
you
Won’t
get published as they don’t fit
One of
the many boxes
I think
of RA Wilson
Every
time
Writing
all those books and no one knowing
What
shelf to stick them on
What to
call him
Dig it
The
less they can stick you in a hole
The
more they see you
You
soak through the barriers and cross
Into
brains north south
East
and west
It’s
not some rebellious bullshit
My
writing flits and jumps and (mostly)
Falls
on its ass before
Dusting
itself off
And
then finally
Hopefully
becoming this strange medley
Of
voices and songs and light and dark
Come
along
Colour
it in.