A poem
is a photograph—
a quick fun diversion,
but mostly cruel
in the way it
hunts and captures
proud wild moments
to be gawked at
in a zoo.
2.
Poetry is sheet music—
a blueprint
for performance,
or more accurately,
empty manuscript paper
you can use
to overlay
a landscape onto,
assigning pitches and duration
to randomness itself,
putting tone-
deaf reality
on a clef.
3.
A poem is a handbill
for the ambient soul—
a greeting card sent
by thought
to confusion—
an afterword
on sentiment—
propaganda
for more poems.
4.
Poetry is a fire theft—
a Promethean provocation
of the Logos in words,
like Merriam-Webster
defining what love is,
or when the White Star Line
called the Titanic
"unsinkable."
5.
A poem is a disorder—
a disease
you can catch,
the prick of each enjambment
causing inflammation,
and each
stanza, a mobile
ICU tent, built
to quarantine the infection
of an encephalitic virus
which, for a few dozen seconds,
may make your death
seem more—not less—
unthinkable.
