Three Poems – Steven Minchin

Letter To Jim

Dear Sir, this endeavor
involves no words, it is full
simply, of meanings

Or Sir, this endeavor
is ripe with words, it is
barren, honestly, of meanings

Possibly, it may be
a letter, experimental literature
disgusting itself

Sorry Sir, but I’ve made it
your distinct job to judge
which of the proceeding is true, if any

So then, should the last stanza be too true
then what this endeavor is, is everything
and everything after me after you

But First: This Is Today

Now I’m aiming for famous just to spurn you
David, not because you said I couldn’t but because
you hate the vessel I use and because you said:

Why can’t you just talk in normal speak like everyone else instead of writing these complex poems that have some sort of factiousness to do with me?

I keep doing it even when it has nothing to do with you
and you keep paying residuals though you should collect.
Now I’m doing it again and waiting for Matt Lauer to ask why

Sense Or

What
is a four letter word
as is
Tell
and its partner
Stop
so go
on
explain yourself
on
and on again to say
What

Steven Minchin continues, unless he’s dead, at which point – he will not.