I know that for ‘real’ poets

There are rules and do’s and don’ts

But I am just an outlaw

And learn the laws, I won’t.

To follow all these special rules

One must know what one is doing

And that makes real poets work-

It’s fun that I’m pursuing.

So thoughtlessly I’ll foul the air

With nonsense, I’m a skunk.

I’ll just scribble to my heart’s content

My kind of careless junk.

May B. Winkel, © 1996