I hate poetry exercises. I hate them more than I hate beets.
Aw. I feel bad, because this guy's poetry isn't "Exe(k)rable." But categories are categories.
And I really, really hate beets. Nevertheless, every time someone lauds beets, and gets some ridiculous roasted beet salad on a bed of freesia with goat cheese and balsamic reduction, I try it. Even though I know the outcome will be the same. I will put it in my mouth, I will squeeze my eyes closed, I will choke it down, take a drink of soda, then say the same thing I always say "Beets taste like dirt." But I always try it because beets are like, so damn good for you.
It's not all that with the poetry exercise, but still: I try the exercise. I can't write anything. It feels forced and dumb. I throw my pen in the air and say "I hate poetry exercises." Inevitably though, after failing at the exercise, I'll be wonderfully inclined to write some other poem of my own making.
Well, maybe it is. I don't know shit from poetry. Click through and comment.