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Ross Runfola / (GPP Poet)
(A Real Poet)
if I
was a real poet I would have a poem
in The New Yorker
but that would mean I had compromised my literary soul
by sacrificing unadorned language
for the obtuse lines
that are the hallmark of the college professor’s safe and
uneventful existence.
great lines are written at home
after a twelve hour shift
despite the screaming pain
of hands as raw as life itself
or
after waking up in a seedy motel
with flickering neon lights
and your wallet
lifted by a girl named Candy.
(back)
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