CCXXXV

i am sick of blunts i am sick of 40's i am sick of nose rings i am sick of tattoos i am sick of guns gats 9s etc. i am sick of Snapple® i am sick of talk show hype i am sick of cheesy shore towns i am sick of being "down" w/? i am sick of hard guys i am sick of driving i am sick of gangs i am sick of dinosaur movies i am sick of the warm spot on my pillow i am sick of Butthead(Beavis is alright) i am sick of baseball i am sick of letting "boyz be boyz" i am sick of skating K-mart i am sick of Whoomp there it is (what the fuck does whoomp mean?) i am sick of sweating my balls off i am sick of working i am sick of sleeping till 4 p.m.(well...) i am sick of Fridays w/Rhonda UP all night i am sick of taking 5 showers before i leave my house i am sick of mowing my lawn i am sick of being "Alternative" i am sick of caring i am sick of you i am sick of writing any more, monday morning coming down off six or seven tabs of acid just finished making it with a chick by the swimming hole and it was almost dawn and jimi hendrix was just coming on and i stood with my arm around my old lady for an hour and foxey lady brought up a psychedelic sun to a now garbage strewn and almost cow pasture and hendrix played and played and electronic bolts of universal dope energy brought up the sun to a full clear day. and hendrix [expletive deleted] his guitar for hours and around then hey joe brought in dark clouds from the west and the clouds gathered and it rained and people left to "hey joe where you goin' with that gun in your hand?" and people trucked back to hip community and job and school but they know and they feel and it's down so deep in their heads that baby this is where it's at and soon they're gonna make it happen and one day soon hendrix will play and no one will leave. and we will be one forever, I must be frank with you about these new poems you have sent me. If you persist in this new direction you'll squander whatever talents you have as a poet. I can't for the life of me figure out what is possessing you to write like this. All poets come to the crossroads you have found. The lure of the intellect is very strong. No one wishes to be thought simple minded. Please listen to me. I am certain you have taken the wrong path. Simplicity and clarity narrative and condensation all require a lifetime's work. It's easy to achieve a modicum of mastery in the simple style you now reject but the true bloom of that style comes only twenty or thirty years later but I suppose that right now you find it gratifying to revel in a freedom which you have come upon through theory and abstract thought. I wish you well though you know how much I hate such poetry. My true wish for you is that you return to your;