I keep hearing from the old dogs,
men who have been writing for
decades,
poets all,
they’re still at their
typers
writing better than
ever
past wives and wars and
jobs
and all the things that
happen.
many I disliked for personal
and artistic
reasons…
but what I overlooked was
their endurance and
their ability to
improve.

these old dogs
living in smoky rooms
pouring the
bottle…

they lash against the
typer ribbons: they came
to 
fight.