National Poetry Month / The right side speaks for itself.

I have a confession to make:

I bought a book of                    poetry
to share with you.
Hundreds of poems,
all unique,
all voices of the past and
present and full of what             is
cherished by English
professors                               everywhere.
But
I did not share it in time.
The month is almost over.
The only thing I have to
show for it is a new-found
appreciation for the poets
of the world.
And this post, which is a
nod to a form I saw in a
book last night. At Borders.
Called Crank.
It's about a drug user, but
I saw the two-poem in one
and fell in love.