I know poetry readings can be super uncomfortable. Like being forced to sit through the public reading of a stranger’s very private diary. From when they were 12. And discovered masturbation.
But when done well, it can make you want to whoop from your seat like a Pentacostal in a tent revival. This is one of those done-wells – about hope, mackin’ like Jay-Z, and being a crush-monster for love.
Happy Monday morning, everyone!
A few other posts about poetry:
(Photo Source: Little Big House)