Bad Bad

Author: Chelsey Minnis

Publisher: Fence Books (2007)

People say "nothing new" or "the death of the author" but, I am new and I am not dead.

Intellectual, anachronistic, superserious: I'm not going to start crying because "experimental" and I'm not going to start crying because "not experimental"...

I just want to piss down my own leg...

And should everyone be bored like narcosis?....

Poetry should be "uh huh" like..."baby has to have it..."

If anyone thinks they need to write reviews, teach classes, edit magazines, or translate

books in order to write good poetry...then maybe they should just take a rest from it...

If you try to write a good poem again and again for years and years and receive no awards, no money, no nothing...then you're happy...

And all these blurbs are for s-. Like if I were to carry around a turd and pretend it is my baby...

The poet I worship is Edward Dorn, because I adore his disgust...

Whatever he says feels like art...

Poetry is for crap since there's no money or fast cars in it...

But, in the thighs...I feel it...