Someone at a party once asked me
What the best poem I've written is,
I told him "I haven't written it yet.."
My answer, refusing to answer the question, yet answering it in endless other ways at the same time, even surprised me, I remember..
My best poem,
My one poem,
that I can just whip out,
and have everyone satisfied,
The best representation of me as a poet..
That, one, poem..
"I, just, haven't, written, it yet.."
See, I live a very intense life.
The intense things attract me.
Though in lesser and lesser intensities as I get older, I've always had an inkling for the surreal, the false, the profound..
And I'm not claiming to be profound either,
I'm just saying,
I constantly live in search of it,
I'm attracted to the idea of it,
And I'm looking for it.
And the more intense I live,
I find that the more intense I feel,
And the more intense I feel,
The more I have things to write about.
And, this one might surprise you,
The more I've been writing,
The better I have gotten at it.
So, it should also not be a surprise,
When I say that
"I'm not a poet, but a poem.."
I want to live my intense life,
As intently as I can,
And I want all my poems to flow through me,
Wherever the fuck they are coming from,
Where ever the fuck they are going,
I don't care,
I'm not a poet,
I'm just a poem,
Writing it self,
And one day,
On one fateful day,
I'm going to write one last poem,
And that poem, is going to be the only trace that's left of me..
And everyone's going to talk about me..
The fact that I've disappeared,
All of a sudden..
All the king's horses and all the king's men will look for me,
For 3 business days,
And then they will look for someone else,
Or another poem,
Someone else's poem,
Someone else's work,
And all my poems will be deleted,
My books burned,
And that best poem,
That I've ever written,
Will finally be comple,
No one to read it,
No one to recite,
No one to click their fingers to it,
And that poem never had an author,
Never had a poet,
Only the poem itself
Only ever existed
Without a pen,
Without a paper,
And one day, without a trace
And it'll float around in space
Forever,
The best poem I've ever written
The best life I've ever lived
In the end, like always,
In the end.
BS
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