Excerpts from a Book I’ll Never Write

What I wrote before
appears not to have
quite been in English.
What seemed so clever and creative
at first glance
proved in the dark of night
to be naught but insensate ramblings.

And maybe that’s OK.
Maybe it’s all right
that occasionally
the artistic expressions I attempt
are simply rants of incoherent impotence.
Perhaps that says something
about the human condition
and we can all learn something
when I produce such uneducated dreck.
Yes, there is a lesson to be found here.
There has to be.

Or maybe I was drunk.

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