i'm a pathetic parasitic almost sort of poet dining as i do solely on despair or revelation emanating from my own day to day tribulations and epiphanies composing the year to year life arcs i foretell in dreams and then enact and then watch on looped replay with threatening telestrator in hand.

this might be the first time i've ever straight-facedly referred to myself as a poet. which itself is  inherently more than just 'some' acclamation from an otherwise increasingly cantankerous never satisfied always pullin out more canvas sort of philosopher life author self.

feels like implicitly bullshit tho. this whole charade now.

'poet', 'poetry, poetic'... these are judgments assigning value, taking 'poetry' as we (me and my group of bureaucrats, credentialed experts and thorough archivists) to not be confined to that niched writing territory of 'not considered short and novelized fiction'. i mean: poetry seems less a discipline and more of an abstract value not limited to written words applying to or eschewing convention. a spirit an aesthetic. 'a poetic gait' 'your timbre is poetry' ... as well as homer and whitman and rilke and dylan and hendrix and others more conventionally called 'poets'. i don't pretend this to be revolutionary to the aesthetics field or a meaningful contribution to contemporary or eternal philosophy of art conversations. the declaration is important to me.

this is all to say that i may be a parasitic poet but it's not pathetic.