Sunday, May 26, 2013

if you fall in love with a process, you'll have a good life

Failure has gotten a bad name, 

hanging out in all the wrong places, 

joining gangs of hoodlums, wearing 

leather. Failure doesn't know how

to improve his image, even when 

we'd all love to love him. I met 

Falure last night playing jazz

in a seedy bar. I said to him, 

"Failure, you've got a problem." Failure

said, "I don't have a problem, I am

a problem, my own worst enemy.

Everybody tells me, 'Get a coat and tie, 

clean up your act. Even if you can't 

be a success, act like one. 'Do you know 

how much I hate all those successes

driving their fancy cars, going home

to wives and dogs, loving their children

because it makes everything go so

easily? No, I'm not about to get braces 

on my teeth. I have no intention 

of getting a shampoo and shave, let alone

shining my shoes. Failure is its own

reward, it gets you out of the game.

Now I can play my trumpet like nothing

else in the world mattered. I can search 

for the perfect note in the void, having 

eliminated all superfluous sounds." Yes,

I left Failure leaning up against the bar

with a smile on his face, and I felt

ashamed of myself. I still wanted success, 

to be like everybody else, though I knew now

the true price that must be paid. 

                 Selected Poems: