Wednesday, May 25, 2011

the light

there is no
future in this,
she tells me.
there is no hope
or money
in poetry. you
can write all
you want, but
the world will
not care.
write a novel,
or a screenplay,
write something
with meat
on it's bones.
something visual
that can be
bought and sold.
therein lies
your gold,
your salvation,
your way out.
move over i tell
her, you're
blocking my
light.

1 comment:

Dawn said...

such a sad commentary on our culture, that so many of us can only find value or purpose in that which can be converted into a cash reward. there is gold in your writing, Steve, never doubt it. but, it's true that there's no money in poetry.