Not Poetry Month

It is no longer Poetry Month, so I will go back to my usual whining. Or I will post this, which is a phenomenal song by Elbow called Grounds For Divorce, which sort of looks like a poem. I can't write this well, with our without music:

Mondays is for drinking to the seldom seen kid
I've been working on a cocktail called Grounds for Divorce
Polishing a compass that I hold in my sleeve
Down comes him on sticks but then he kicks like a horse
There's a tiny cigarette case
And the rest you can keep
There's a hole in my neighborhood down which of late I cannot help but fall

Mondays is for drinking to the seldom seen kid
There's this whispering of jokers doing flesh by the pound
To a chorus of supposes from the little town whores
There'll be twisted karaoke at the Aniseed lounge
And I'll bring you further roses
But it does you no good
There's a hole in my neighborhood down which of late I cannot help but fall—
Someday we'll be drinking with the seldom seen kid.

See, when I write it like that, it looks all poem-y. In reality it's much more stompy whiskey rock. I believe I reviewed it as such on ze ozher blog. I saw the band in NYC last week and they blew my proverbial socks off. When some of their songs play I think my heart will explode.

The day is mopey and full of sad songs. A rejection letter I really was hoping wouldn't be a rejection letter came yesterday; I revised the crap out of the novel-as-it-stands, which sucks and I want to burn it; We're not going to talk about my professional life; and I'm as broke as you can get and need a way out please k thanks.