make it up as i go

damn my memory. i was in the shower this morning when a very short poem popped into my brainpan. i worked on it all the way to my job, going over lines, and thinking i must write this down. naw, this shit i'll remember, i said to myself. shoulda known better. cuz i forgot. got busy at work and didn't get a chance. now that i've sat down i can't remember what the hell it was at all. fucked up. my short term memory is all shot to hell.

but then so published over at stride are short pieces called the deflated ego where a poet writes about his/her own work. martin stannard is his usual witty self with his piece. a new poet to me, nathan thompson, writes a bit of a palimpsest about his first book. i've been reading and enjoying thompson for a while now who i think is a young or youngish writer. i've got say to thompson is why don't you start a blog.

i was about to say something else but i forget. . .