Terry McCarty
IMPOSSIBLE DREAMS
I want to write the first self-published
chapbook that sells a million copies.
I want to be the first poet to sell out arenas.
Not once.
Not twice.
But five nights in a row.
And perform three-and-a-half hour sets
just like Springsteen did in the 70s and
80s.
I want to invite my brothers and sisters in
poetry to help me create an annual festival
called WORDSTOCK.
It will consist of three days of peace, love
and metaphors.
I want it to be so big and important that
people will smash through the fences
to witness incredible poetry for free—
but not until we’ve turned a profit.
I want to see an hour of verse on prime-time TV every night of the week.
Think about it, NBC.
It will be cheaper to produce than a
ten o’clock Jay Leno show.
I want to kickstart a new kind of future.
I want to teach the majority of
humankind that poetry doesn’t suck.
I want to….think about this to-do list
some other time.
It’s getting really cold in the break room.
Time for me to go back to work.
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