The Fairies Who Run My Life

The fairies who run my life
have now directed me to print
lovely nice-looking
pretty-well-edited
books made of the poems
that the fairies have prompted
me to write over
the last few years.

Why I would be anything but grateful
for this gift of the fairies,
whatever should be its eventual fate?

It was fun, is all it was!
And it gave me energy
and-a
a kind of flirty power
that sort of worked--
with myself anyway,
maybe with others.

No, I would never
underestimate
this joy and energy,
and the least I can do
is leave
accessible representations
of tbe fun the fairies and I had,
in case someone would like
to take a look.

So, I need to print the books, starting with:

Trans
Woke
Bardic
Elegiac
Comedian
Devout
Splendid
Doomed
Vulnerable
Loving
Pretty

I also need to print the Skeleton poems again.

And what the hell, the uncollected volumes.


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