I am going to use the Ass In Seat Method,
knowing not every word will be a masterpiece edit.
I am going to write sober, edit after method.
That means I am a boring poet in his 40’s,
getting older by the second method.
I am going to use the ideas given to me from the
Great Bard when he spoke to me last week.

Get to work poet. Grab your shovel and dig dirt
till you find what you seek.
the poet in his wisdom said to me,
there is too much to do to let that writers block
turn you into chopped meat.
Get to writing poetry. True writers are beasts.
First you work, then you feast.
In the wisest words he said to me,
quite honestly, with no pretention,
that the writing process isn’t a beautiful one.
It is rugged, and the job is never done.
No masterpiece is ever written, without revision.
If you are blocked, he said, there is no such thing.

Always something to do.
If it’s not editing, writing,
then its preparing submissions
for acceptance or rejection.
It’s this writing thing.
It’s a process,

it’s Sunday reading to them.
it’s a lifestyle.
it’s the reason we
for us.

Me and the Bard, we waxed poetic
on Celtics basketball and many things,
but he said something that I wrote down
in the midst of all the excellence.
That true writers write not to win elections.
They don’t write to earn big pay checks.
They don’t write cause its lubrication
for sex and what comes next.
They don’t write cause it’s the thing to do,
or they saw someone else do it.
They write, because it’s the
heart beat.

It’s the heart beat.

It’s the rhythm, the keys,
the jazz instrumentals and drum beats.
It’s the shake you out of your seat.
Here comes the Mingus minute,
that you have been waiting to see.
That all this other shit you’ve been listening to
is chicken feed.
That true poets write.
You can hear the heartbeat
on each rhyme scheme.
That 10,000 shots and thousands
of broken strings
make true athletes and musicians.

But maybe, maybe, that’s the gift we give.
To make this sound so easy, tangible to the kids,
that they get up on the mic
and make us shake our eyelids, and say, Wow,
that kid…hes got it.
Going to be a big player in the game, don’t doubt it.

She is only a lion cub,
but when she learns to roar,
You will stand before her and throw roses.
He is only a cub, but when he gets
that rhyme scheme down, ain’t no stopping his train.

And me, I hope to be like the Bard
that spoke to me, with wisdom and gravity,
and I will tell them what he told to me.

Get to work poet, don’t care
if you are 15, 20, or 50.
They never said that the game was easy.

But if you are a poet, you will know it.
‘Cause like the Bard and me, you will feel it

‘Cause it’s
in your


Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly. His third book, Train of Thought 2: Almost Home will be available soon.