Sunday, March 11, 2018

Poetry Is (poem)

Poetry is
reality, distilled.
It’s not the transcendent,
try capture, and fail,
or all wonder,
well-imitated, but pale.
No.

Poetry is
reality, distilled.
It starts with the corn or the rye,
the simple things at hand,
already born, ready for the fire.
Yes.

Poetry is
reality, distilled.
It’s the bottle with a rag,
in your hand,
ready to throw –
light it.
It’s the alcohol –
ignite it.

March 2018   North Andover, Mass

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