delete

I think I might
Delete every post I've ever made.
I think I might
But I probably won't.
I'm pretty sure I've argued about whether anything can ever be deleted;
You can't burn the internet.
My paranoid moments merely excuses for self-pity.
I don't like anonymity except when I do.
I don't write.
That's a lie--I do write, I just save it on an external drive and
Forget about it.
That's also a lie; I forget none of those word collections,
Even the bad ones.
Especially the bad ones.

I'm writing a poem.
It's the second poem I've written in two months.
Before this, I had not composed a poem
Since 1999 or so. Maybe earlier.
I didn't burn the old poems, even though they were not on the internet.
I have all the notebooks here in my office.
There was no such thing as an internet when most of them were composed.
I didn't use the internet until 1997.
Maybe earlier, probably earlier, it's not one of those details I deemed worthy of recording.
Initially I used the Internet for porn, like everyone else.
Probably a few other things too, but definitely not for poetry
Or any other of my writings.
Truthfully, I didn't even think of it.
There was too much going on.
That's how I know I'm not a real writer:
I always think there is too much going on to write.
I stopped writing for a number of years.
Real writers don't do that.
I think it was close to seven years, but I'm not sure.
I had excuses, of course.
Every writer has excuses.
But real writers don't actually stop writing.
I did.

Eventually I started again. And I was better.
I wrote a lot more and sometimes I posted those writings on the internet.
Not poetry. Stories, a couple of novels, journal crap dumped from my brain.
(Guess which of those three formats I posted on the internet.)
I've worked steadily ever since--there are periodic lulls, of course,
But it never feels like it is over.
I'm still surprised to find myself writing this poem, though.
Maybe it's because I'm hungry and don't want to fix dinner.
It might be the rain.
Unlike the poem I wrote two months ago, this one was composed longhand.

Fact: I don't think it is a poem.
But that's not for me to judge.

I'm still undecided on deleting every post I ever wrote.
I guess it's too much effort.
I'd rather have another beer
And wish I still smoked.
Like a real writer.



-- 5/4/2014