Saturday, December 12, 2015

poem about reading a poem

i’m trying to understand
what you do with language,
why you make those turns -
how you move from this poetic
shifting gears, this hard
speech & how the voice changes.
it is a mystery. this is a mystery.
the way the phrase echoes
as if i’ve heard it before -
somewhen else, maybe
even beyond words & imbedded
in the body, a way of knowing,
the word bearing weight;
the glory of language & how
it shapes the world,
the way it shapes
my memory of the experience:
the reasons i thought that
i could even begin to understand
what lies beneath my reason,
the ebb & flow of speech –
promises, perhaps, possibilities & pauses
- holding it all in the palm of my mind,
grasping at each measured image
to connect each to a moment
we can share so we can discover
where the world divides,
where light divides from dark,
night from day, light
shining on or from the words
& yes, they are promises
but hold them lightly
don’t hold them too tightly
for they are too easily strangled.