Choice is painful, Occasion but a drag. Poems are made by poets, That’s no lie. “What’s wrong with this town,” A New York driver says, “There’s too much art—and Too many art lovers!” “You an artist?” “Nah, I just drive cab.”
From Portrait and Dream: New and Selected Poems by Bill Berkson. Copyright © 2009 by Bill Berkson. Used by permission of Coffee House Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.