the hope trap
1.
I hope I’m smart enough
That next year I remember
Nay, I decide not to sign up
For another poeting marathon
I’m getting waaay too old for this claptrap
2.
Except of course I won’t
I’ll be here again with bells
Revelling in the subliminal
Fugue state at the end of a day
Built on but a few scattered 12 minute naps
3.
Because the beauty of Marathon:
Poet-style is the hope that in
This heteroclitic haze of exhaustion
Gold is struck & I just step out
The way, let the shine glow : then — snap!