ars poetica

Poetry sings about plowing,
or smoothing,
or planting
or harvesting;
but
seldom sings about
“leaving be.”

That happens with out request
or song.

Poetry is remembering yesterday.
Poetry is dreaming tomorrow,
Poetry is complaining,
and cheering,
and cussing,
and poetry is about what should be done,
and when,
and where,
and why no one is…
or does.

But…
“now”
never calls for poetry
until
then
is past when.

People know something is missing;
they wonder where love went;
They don’t understand:

Poetry is much like air.

You can’t breath out
without first breathing in.