Confession of a Poetry Salesman

I myself may not pass the
"who cares test."
I am fed up with selling.

I have sold some poetry
in my life but it's not worth the investment.
I give it away or even pay people to take it
(trying to sell poetry in this market
is often that anyway--
paying people to take it).

I know the kind of god who
works for me. I
keep my hand in my art
in spite of the futility and absurdity.

Like an insect
that lives near a bird's nest, I
go about my business
unconcerned that I will
be devoured by something bigger tomorrow.