So There
J H Hobson
"Okay, this is it. This is the thing. You don't understand what the world wants. They don't want those old fashioned moon-spoon-June shit exercises you pull up from under the rocks of literary history. Let that shit lay there. Even mentally disabled people can be taught to speak in rhyme and rhythm―it's not so hard. Write the real fucking stuff that everyone can understand..."
He went on and on, the famous―well, the locally well known poet who wrote crap about fucking and drumming and Jack Kerouac.
I was supposed to sit there and take it. Take it from him. He wrote the word "VAGINA" on the side of a tampon and that was a poem.
I wrote:
    "So very small and private is our woe
    A smooth stone slipped unseen into the sea
    To sit amid the muck and undertow
    With every other slight and sunken thing."
He said nobody reads that crap.
I said well somebody just did, fucker.
J H Hobson would like to invite you to further your reading of J H Hobson's work by purchasing copies of just about any literary journal in the world. Unfortunately, what J H Hobson would like to do and what J H Hobson can do are quite divergent. Alas for humanity. But, do, if you are inclined, check out Champagne Shivers 2007, and Appalling Limericks for forthcoming work by this master of... (shall we say?) unique perspectives.