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