I feel like Thomas Edison,
Creating to remain sane.
I don’t want to be the one without a mind.
I’m only building myself a heart
To show you
Because the one I came with is not
Functioning the way I want.
It quarrels often with my mind,
But now that it has won
I have to draw on dear old Mr. Edison
To find a way to get to you.
A few notebooks containing old poems (among other things) have survived fire and flood for more than 30 years. This one has notes scribbled on the outside:
- dedicated to my parents for making the future more possible than it ever was
- listen to Someday Never Comes CCR
- plus some ideas for titles
- Adventures in growing up: poetry in desperate times
- on white paper without lines
- the thin spectrum alongside the rest of the color range
- the honorable maggot
- Myrnah, the dogs are loose again
- A fortune in bathroom reading
- Critic’s Choice (for the fireplace)
- Adventures in Bonzoland
- My mind threw up & this is what came out
- With a hint of rhythm
- From the movie soundtrack of the same name
- Discarding a few eights around my neck