Walking down Sydney road minding my own business when some dude hanging out a car window, amidst the crawling traffic yells out at me...
"HEY YOU! YEAH, POETRY GUY!"
Says he saw me perform Wednesday night. Says he loved the stuff I did, especially that last one. I told him he just made my day. Because he did. We're both smiling big now.
I was on my way to the post office, to send out my second-last copy of my third printing of my first book.
I forget sometimes that I have something to offer people. Something of value. I love writing and performing. I dont like getting messages from people wanting favours from me they don't deserve. I don't like seeing what has currency at the moment and who we're not hearing more from. Most of all I don't like thinking back on all the years wasted energy I gave trying to help, and trying to hurt, the other poets.
But I love the work. I like the ferocious creativity I can still feel wanting to come out of me. I like being these words, for people, in front of people.
It's pretty good.
- Randall Stephens, poetry guy