Tuesday, 01 September 2009




    In memoriam P.R.

    The truth is
    We couldn't have been
    More different.    

    Years back,
    I remember saying

   When you complained of being broke:
    'So write some trash,
    Just to make money.'    

    And your angry cry:
    'But that would be work!'    

    To be a poet,
    All day,
    Every day,
    Was what you aimed for,
    Even when we were both
    Producing ads
    For the same agency.    

    You dreamed,
    But didn't work.    

    The rest of us
    Could do the job for you.    

    As for your own stuff,
    It had to be
    Heavyweight or nothing.    

    It's really no wonder
    We were long out of touch.    

    You wouldn't have liked
    This airy-fairy
    Lament for you now,
    Spinning my yo-yo,
    Bouncing the ball.


This site was last updated 01-09-2009