Hey, waddaya know! I’m turning 20 tomorrow! You know what would be a really great gift? Money.
But seeing as you’re all cheapskates, I’ve taken the initiative and am giving myself a birthday present: As a change of pace for this blog, for the next couple days I’ll be posting creative writing of various types that I’ve done in the past. I don’t have a regular venue for posting such things, and I think it’s high time that some of this ridiculous vitriol see the light of day.
I think I’ll start out today with a little poem that I wrote not long ago (yeah, I know! Me!? Poem!? WHAAAA–!?) The truth is that very rarely do I delve into poetry (and when I do, the results are either not pretty or incredibly concise), but every once in a while I get the urge to scratch something out in my notebook.
I should preface this poem by saying that Billy Collins is one of my favorite poets and I love his poem “Nightclub,” but I just thought there was some point of contention within it, so I wrote this in response:
AN OPEN LETTER TO FORMER POET LAUREATE BILLY COLLINS RE: “NIGHTCLUB”
Dear Mr. Collins:
You listen to boring music.
Very truly yours,