I will pretend there are no other poems
and no other poets.
My eyes are closed
and they are all gone.
The medium is mine and
no other exists
and I will pretend that perhaps
there isn't already a poem by this title.
And now that I have you
thinking this poem is stolen
I will show that it's not
as it doesn't even have a poetic title
like all the good poems have,
one that is like an impossible object, a koan
that doesn't make sense at first
such as the one in the Book Review today,
"Fifty Miles From Tomorrow."
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1 comment:
haha. or how about "I heard a fly buzz when I died"
I feel like this poem...because I haven't been able to write a poem in ages.
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