what makes me feel
so horrible
is when i read your poetry
and i can't find the meaning
past the imagery.
call me simple-
minded but i have never met
a soybean that could sweat
or breathe
or a god-
damn piece of farm-
land that could hold
secrets in her soil
or leaves.
and another thing:
nobody uses the word
'tendrils'
anymore, not to mention Greek
myths or long-lined confessions
lacking calculation.
an admonition:
we are dying, pal,
and it has absolutely nothing
to do with anything
you're writing.
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