I too would have liked
to write about fog but
the Big Boys intervened,
told me to shut up:
they’d been there,
seen it,
done the poems,
had the T-shirts printed.
So here I sit
quietly watching
a pale sun melt
what could’ve been
my poem – all fourteen
glorious fucking lines of it.
whypoetry 
April 26th, 2019 at 9:54 pm
Amazing!
May 3rd, 2019 at 6:21 am
So it stayed in then. Good! In fact: Very good.