Eun Ji, maybe we were destined
To write for money, like marketers
Who were once artists, once beggars
For an audience, like people
Who once dreamed of selling books
But I’m nobody, if not a poet
And a poet has no vocation anymore
So I’m a poet on social media
So I’m growth-hacking products
At the bazaar of life, so that I might eat
And write poems in my spare time
Are you nobody, too?
Writing memoirs, about your roots,
I don’t have a biography to tell
The body grows outside of sunsets
And this mind grew outside of time
With undue significance I went starving
Across the years, waiting for a novel
Like some great love that never came
I just watched myself become
A writer, any kind of writer
For a dime, a dollar, for a dream.
Wuji Seshat 