The best writers don’t take what they write seriously.
They don’t describe what the audience has already seen.
The best writers give specific audiences funny poetry
and they laugh before you know what they mean.
The strangely beautiful is what the best have to share.
If they offend, they care and yet don’t care.
Why are the clever horribly sarcastic,
emotionally distant, making them impossible to love?
You cannot know one you love.
You cannot love one you know.
Under the leaning trees, artificial winds in the grasses grow.