I have a fantasy football blog. I have an international poetry review that I edit. I write a newspaper column. I have a comedy site I contribute to. And during the past two days, two days when NFL free agency was in full swing and the 77 Cardinals were in the Vatican trying to choose a new Pope, I had no time to do anything but think in my brain what it might be like to sit down and let some of the thoughts in my head spill out.
Maybe it's better that they didn't.
Also, I very rarely just blog. About my lunch. About my day.
Case in point. It's almost 11 p.m., and as I write three poems by co-founder of the Outlaw Poetry movement, Tony Moffeit come over the transom for Zombie Logic Review. I'm stoked.
And I'm tired.
I never meant to get dragged into the thick like this. I'd like to be downtown drinking whiskey with the guys. I'm bent into this keyboard like a semicolon. And a lot of miles to go tonight. But i think I'm going to let a struggle go because in the end it's not my fight. I make things. That gives me joy. Showing an audience beautiful things other poets have made also gives me joy. I want to concentrate on that for a while. And write about fantasy football. These eternal struggles will still be anytime I choose to pick them up again.
Hey, they chose a new Pope today. And I don't even know his name.