Why read my stuff instead of Whitman, or Emerson, or any other great transcendentalist? Or, skip the niche and just read good poetry instead of my ravings. Here's what we unofficial poets say: Read our sometimes amateurish, sometimes cliche'd, sometimes pretentious, writing, to know that the average person also feels the need to write poetry. That we too can feel some exemplar rising in us. Read it to know you live in a society where regular folk still write poetry, play the piano worse than Horowitz, sing worse than Callas. We want it to be personal. We know there are usually much better things to read than ours. There are much better things to spend your time on, but they won't give you the same comfort you will get knowing some of your neighbors still write poetry, play the piano poorly, and croak out a song once in while that makes you cry with us.
--------------------------------------------
Who is it - ?
Who but you
could know?
One being, so many people,
so many windows,
so many doors.
Being, I don't care where you live,
as long as you're there;
with your windows and doors
wide open.
--------------------------------------------
Who but you
could know
that I can not say
anything but what
you have said?
That I have never said
anything but what you have
said?
Who but you
could see it here?
I'm not asking for
it's meaning,
we know that's up for grabs;
but you do see it don't you?
--------------------------------------------
No comments:
Post a Comment