Friday, May 7, 2021

Not a Nodus

The poet disturbs language,
Using it improperly,
Not the way that people speak,

Never exactly—even
If only found speech,
It’s been presented archly,

Like a mounted urinal,
Like a horse head in your sheets
To see you get the message.

And what is a poem’s message?
Oh, it differs exactly
As much as people differ,

A lot but not completely.
That incompleted difference
Authors Hirsch’s disturbance.

It’s hard to locate a poem
That could pass for normal talk
In the mind and in the ear,

For the eyes and on the page.
So let’s stick with that, for now.
It’s not really a problem,

May not make much of a whirl
In the waves, but a little,
At least, in rhythm, glint, pace—

It’s a poem if it disturbs
The language, if there’s something
Of a swerve in how it falls.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.