(You can see Exhibits A and B here and here, respectively.)
Back in ancient times I wrote poetry because I had to.
Which is to say in my college creative writing class one term consisted of writing poetry. Though we had computers even back then (with snazzy dot matrix printers) I chose to write most of my poetry on one of the clunky typewriters in the library. The typewriters were all in a sealed room for obvious reasons. Just one of those 50 pound behemoths clacked thunderously, let alone a room of them. With my typing style (three fingers, strongly) the noise level was that much higher. BANG BANG BANG POETRY.
This is a scanned copy of the original. An unfinished draft of another poem called The Island is visible on the other side of the paper. As with most of my poetry, Pretty Bunnies and Happy Flowers was written in a single session with little thought and no attention paid to rhyme, meter or really anything that a poet should pay attention to. It was also not one of my submitted projects, probably because I knew better than to cultivate an unwanted reputation as a weirdo by letting others read it. Twenty-three years later the poem strikes me as less creepy and more stupid, a mockery of ‘serious’ poetry, which was my secret way of admitting I couldn’t write the stuff worth beans!
