stealing from hank moody

by on November 15, 2015 :: 0 comments

I recently found myself
one of those uniquely writerly situations
in which I was introduced
as a writer
another writer—

“My condolences,” I said
to the writer.

My condolences . . .

There you go,
I thought. Stealing from Hank Moody,
slinging his words
as if they were your own.

The writer
didn’t seem to catch
my plagiarism

Or perhaps
she just didn’t want to acknowledge
the allusion
as that would mean
like me
watches Californication
she should be doing

editors note:

Condolences all around! Now… where’s the remote? (We welcome Ben to the outrageous ranks of our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) – mh clay

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