I dove in and decided that I would rather fail at poetry than succeed at anything else. Looking back at it now, I feel that it all had an air of desperation — as if I were drowning and saw an oar going by and grabbed on for dear life.
“Persephone came home to Orpheus with sore knees, flushed cheeks
I get why you don’t wanna believe, that water get deep
Obama Kush when he speak, so articulate
Leaf stuck in his buck teeth
Stuck, in the bucket seats”