Cult Writer

 

I heard Brenda say on the phone,

“He writes.”  I don’t know who

she was talking to.  But that sums it up.

Nothing happens to it.

What would happen?

Why would anything happen?

The doing of it is enough.

I reach a coterie of readers.

A cult.  I am a cult writer.

It doesn’t make me a bad person.

Just a poor provider.

Van Gogh was a poor provider.

Gauguin was a poor provider.

Mozart was a poor provider.

He was buried in potter’s field.

He didn’t have a pot to piss in.

Have you seen the movie Amadeus?

 

 

 


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