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