I got a check today,
oh boy,
inside an unsealed envelop.
It could have fallen out,
oh yeah
but it didn’t.
I called my brother tonight,
oh boy,
I do not want this money.
It doesn’t mean a thing to me.
oh yeah
tithe or die …
guilty as charged.
tin hats 
Hi J.,
I am taking it you wrote this with one hand on the keyboard with your body stretched out on the floor and you were hitting the keys with a numb hand. That is the only way to write poetry, so kudos. You probably didn’t notice, but I edited this poem. Wanted to see if you would say WTF. Ha. I feel we are twin robots wandering the world seeking spare parts. I guess you know the beats used to cut up novels and then lay out the snippets and rewrite it and call it a novel. There is also this guy who plagiarizes works and then calls it original. There is the Borges short story about the guy who keeps rewriting “Don Quixote” and calling his efforts as original. So, it seems that the creation of original works has many meanings, all of them correct within the context of some individuals reality. Which begs the question, where will the equivocations end. Can’t some of us agree on something, or is it impossible? Trolls are not abnormal, trolls are normal. Look at any town hall meeting. There is America in all of its argument. I think I will continue this on a new post. Oh boy… Thanks. Duke
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I was off the rails drunk and messy and in desperately in need of an edit in more ways than one so thanks. I hate being made to feel even guiltier than I already feel.
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This one has the swallowed rage of Brautigan.
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I wonder if rewriting your own book would be considered plagiarism…probably, if the book was already the property of a publisher. Accusations of plagiarism, or even purloining, can lead to the Kosinski effect; a singular tragedy of literary authenticity. And then there’s the Hemingway effect, which is when you learn a bunch from another writer ie Gertrude Stein, who told Hemingway to rewrite A Farewell To Arms “and concentrate this time” and of course he did, and it went in the charts as they say, and then, for reasons of his own, he turned on her and his buddy F. Scott, and then he turned on himself and ate the barrel of a gun. The best artists are honourable thieves to varying degrees. At least that’s what Bob Dylan would tell us, and probably Jung too. Where am I going with this? I don’t know. All I know is, we’re never as original as we think we are.
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Obviously you’re going where you’ve been before. If there’s something wrong with self plagiarism than we’re all in trouble. Hemingway turned on himself and after that there was no hope.
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Also, there are several ways to say “Oh boy.” One is happy, one is regretful, one is surprised, one is resigned and there are probably others, but they are not coming. Duke
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