Someday I’ll take the Shirt off my Back

or what if poetry is a game show with no host?

I sought professional help. I suspect some of you wondered what took so long, but admitting I need therapy more than careful editing took some doing. Had to look in the mirror with the lights on and realize I’ve been chasing the wrong ghost image around in my blockheadia. I signed up for a poetry workshop that promised to be fun. Fun? I rejected…