Poem 8: Repetition

Today's prompt asks us to "write a poem that relies on repetition."

BTW, I'm feeling quite grumpy about poems at the moment, and poetry in general. I've cleaned the house. I've cleaned myself. I've done my homework. I've put my things in order (more or less). And now it's time to face the poetic music and get this done. Urgh.

*

Once Again, With Feeling

Dear poetry, there's nothing
I want so much as to quit you.
Leave you high and dry, washed
up on some far shore.

I want so much to quit you.
You're the elusive zipless fuck,
phantom lover waving from a far shore.
Better in the imagination, I'd guess,

fucking elusive, a zipless thrill
caught in the electronic cloud.
You're better in the imagination. I guess
I'm getting old and weary. I've lost

that loving feeling. The electronic cloud
crackles with your current brilliance.
I'm getting old. And weary. I've lost
the habit of hearing when you call

and your current crackles
in another reader's eyes.
When you all, I can't hear anything
but static in the leafless trees.

Another reader's eyes snap and pop
with your liquid florescence.
I'm dull here in Green Bay,
static in the leafless trees.

I'm high and dry, washed clean
of your liquid florescence.
Dear poetry, there's nothing.
it's dull in Green Bay without you.