Introduction To Poetry
I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide
or press an ear against its hive.
I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,
or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.
I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.
But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.
They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.
And, so, perhaps today, I can just enjoy the poem, enjoy the moment, enjoy the sunrise, and not think too much about it all.
Perhaps the poem is just the moment, the sunrise itself,
the feeling in my heart
Without all my analysis, my thinking.
In the moment,
in the silence
of the early morning