Hell No I’m Not Going to Edit This Much (Draft 3)

Hell No I’m Not Going to Edit This Much

*{[Yes, I know, but it’s poetic license: I can say I’m not but then secretly do it anyway]}*

No, I refuse absolutely
to use few words; no, no, no
there is no soul in brevity

No, no, no, I don’t want to be spare,
I want to be naked. I want
to show you everything, and
I want to show you that every ugly blemish has
a beautiful poem it’s inspired, though sometimes

it has named itself like a star is named “123087274”
by the Astronomical Union sometimes but
more often is called Sarah. No, not at all, I
want many more words. I want Love. I want faith in poetry.

I want every rhyme to sing
in every octave that could ding-dong.

I want to hear my music, my love, my joy.
I want to be extravagant, lush in words,
lush in feeling. I don’t want to coyly

take away anything at all except you, love,
into my hovering dreams with chatter fluff
until there’d be no cloudy words
but justly a masterpiece of Love.

— Douglas Gilbert

Hell No I’m Not Going To Edit This Much (Draft 0)

Hell No I’m Not Going to Edit This Much

No, I refuse absolutely
to use few words; no, no, no
there is no soul in brevity

No, no, no, I don’t want to be spare,
I want to be naked. I want
to show you everything, and
I want to show you that every ugly blemish has
a beautiful poem it’s inspired and

it has named itself like a star is named as 123087274
by the Astronomical Union sometimes but
more often is called Sarah. No, not at all, I
want many more words. I want Love. I want faith in poetry.

I want every rhyme to sing
in every octave that could ever exist.

I want to hear my music, my love, my joy.
I want to be extravagant, lush in words,
lush in feeling. I don’t want to

take away anything at all except you
at your best into my dreams and then
that would be when there are no words
but only the masterpiece of Love.

— Douglas Gilbert