Impromptu Poem

So, Cathy and I are taking a Poetry Writing class, and our professor gave us a poem by Tomaz Salamun, let us read it, and then told us to write one like it. Mine isn't very much like it, but I'm somewhat fond of it, so I will show you the two poems.

This is the original:

History

Tomaz Salamun is a monster.
Tomaz Salamun is a sphere rushing through the air
He lies down in twilight, he swims in twilight.
People and I, we both look at him amazed,
we wish him well, maybe he is a comet.
Maybe he is punishment from the gods,
the boundary stone of the world.
Maybe he is such a speck in the universe
that he will give energy to the planet
when oil, steel, and food run short.
He might only be a hump, his head
should be taken off like a spider's.
But then something would then suck up
Tomaz Salamun, possibly the head.
Possibly he should be pressed between
glass, his photo should be taken.
He should be put in formaldehyde, so children
would look at him as they do at fetuses,
protei, and mermaids.
Next year, he'll probably be in Hawaii
or in Ljubljana. Doorkeepers will scalp
tickets. People walk barefoot
to the university there. The waves can be
a hundred feet high. The city is fantastic,
shot through with people on the make,
the wind is mild.
But in Ljubljana people say: look!
This is Tomaz Salamun, he went to the store
with his wife Marusk to buy some milk.
He will drink it and this is history.

--Tomaz Salamun

Here's mine:

There found they him
his Rory was a
wistful wash the
long twists of his
hair undone the
carmichael cost
almost nothing, just
a promise, a bedroom
breaking, a golden ring

His absent art showed
conspicuously round
undecorated walls

We do not remember
or forget

Knowledge knocked, etched,
edged round our doors
and managed itself away.
Of him, Rory, we unknow

He will be as here today as
gone tomorrow; hearing adjacent
asylums he ceased

I will reserve judgement for the time being.