Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Poem: The Art of Poetry

The Art of Poetry

I've heard you can really stink up a poem
by making it too long, 
or dirty, 
or you throw in jesus,
angst
too many metaphors 
or descriptions of  your yard party 
where millionaires 
shoot songbirds in the garden.

You can stink up a poem good
if you talk about how 
you wrote it, 
where you were, how many drugs you had
in your system,  
or how dirty your fingernails
or your sheets were.

A poem has to jell.  It has to steep 
before you let it out into the world.   
If it's too cold
to go out by itself, 
you have to let it stew 
and simmer
before you take up the mic or send it off 
to some rag 
run by a bunch of MFA students
back east 
or a trio of retired teachers putting it together
in the den 
or the room over the garage.

The last time I read this poem
I watched it sneak off the podium
hightail it around the counter 
and slip out the door to the parking lot
head down 
and eyes on the ground.

I saw it perched on a low bush
as I walked home. 
Its eyes burning with shame, 
looking away as I strolled by.

2 comments:

  1. Let me be the first to say it.

    This is the truth and nothing but the truth and one helluva prose poem in itself unless the alter
    wants to fracture it into lines.

    Alleluia!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, sir. Comments of any kind are always appreciated.

      Delete

I WILL REJECT ANY CHINESE OR JAPANESE IDIOMATIC WRITING, AUTOMATICALLY.