—FEBRUARY 4^TH THROUGH THE 16^TH OF MAY

 

 

Good

 

I sometimes think about 

the widow who wrote 

of her late poet husband 

how he felt such gratitude 

simply to be able to write 

and then doubly more so if

he got the chance to share 

his words with others 

how once, only one person 

showed up at the bookstore 

for his reading and yet 

her husband practiced reciting poems 

behind the back shelf sections to himself 

an hour before going on 

and then when he took the podium

he delivered a performance 

as if he was conducting at Carnegie Hall 

or auditioning for one extra day of life 

which in his mind he probably was 

though I’ve never met him 

which is why I think about him 

every time I send a piece out 

in the mail hoping someone,

even a stranger I’ll never meet,

might write back and say 

This is good