My poetry although read

Is read in obscurity

I like it that way

I crave the obscurity

I absolutely abhor the critics

Or those who see themselves as critics

I have never criticised a poem

It is such a vacant occupation

I would not object if it was said

That I was not a poet

Indeed it is hard to think of myself as a poet

I Dream I Write I Hide

What does it feel like

To be a poet

Do I have a green skin or prominent eyes

I do not even own a pen

I have a style because I have no style

I do not understand the secrecy of my many inks

It is a peculiar way to go about ones business

I live alone in a house on Acorn Street with my cat

Who has little or no interest in poetry