Hard and soft ground etching with aquatint
on Rives BFK with black Daniel Smith ink.
I hate to write iambic garbage. It’s
a pain! With trepidation I begin
this noisome task. I cringe beneath the din
of “bozo” I hear shouted from the pits
of my despair. I say that I don’t care
if I succeed. It isn’t fair that I
should have to waste my time on this. I try
again. The meter falls apart. It’s unfair!
It’s hopeless. Where’s the garbage truck to take
this trash and clutter far away from me
and open up this loathsome cave to light?
Through reeking mental fumes I just can make
out images of freedom as I find
the end of this disgusting, ceaseless fight.