Poets on Prozac


By Steve McCord

Believe it or not
Is the actual title
Of an actual book
I actually read.

As a swinger
From lithe lanyards of language,
In creativity’s jungle,
Madness is my Sherpa–
Working pro bono.

Much haphazardly packed baggage
Hoisted, carted along
Dusty paths that wind
Around mysteries summit.

Is a tortured soul
One’s finest muse?
Does relieving psychic pain
Impinge ingenuity?

Questions I’ll someday tackle
As soon as I finish scribing
My post-traumatic blessings.

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