Take my hand, guide me through the halls
of words and lines and tell me how
to write a poem that's not about poetry
or drifting through life by trying not
to make any decisions or action whatsoever
unless it involves sex or food or poetry.
I've learned how to see too but in different
ways. I might explain more than the average
poet but the flower isn't just there.
I'm holding it in my hand. What do you call
that, if not poetry.
I need to find a classroom, I need to find
a temple. Don't tell me what to see,
teach me where to look.
The infinitude of glances, the angles
the eye can take make me dizzy,
vertigo is not just a movie with Kim Novak
with shock white hair. It moves
in the world and in my brain.
I want to know which way is up.
Show me please.
The journey is everything but it is lonely.
The woods are darker and deeper
with nothing to light the way.
I am a hunter with no lantern,
no hound to call or fetch when I say.
Is it possible to be all of these
I need you (do I?) to help me string
these images like beads along
the line of these lines, make them
more than the sum of their parts. - 7 minutes ago