Where Have All the Poems Gone?

I once told you that I "fancied myself a poet."

I am not a poet.

Forcing a poem onto paper is like forcing a toddler's hand into a winter glove -- all of the right parts may exist, but they just wiggle too much to fit.

My thoughts are formed in sentences, not rhythmic lines. Not always in complete sentences, but always structured. More like speech than poetry. Not quite an academic treatise, but never with a musical melody.

I have the soul of a poet trapped in a conformist brain. Bear with me.