A poem
is read quietly
So the Voice
across years, lands
or the table
fills your mind and
resonates in your ear
A poem
is sipped delicately
and swirled around in your mind
The vintage savoured, absorbed.
A poem
is watched keenly
to discern its shades and shapes
until it clicks - and is preserved.
A poem is read, re-read and pondered on
decimated, restructured, assimilated
It is pieced together once more:
The poem
then makes love to the mind -
A whirling world prism of meaning
The poem sings
2 comments:
Self-reflexive verse?
I love the line "The poem/Then makes love to the mind."
:)
Well I wouldn't call it "self-reflexive"... I can't pretend it reaches the heights of poetry or "makes love the the mind." :) And no, that's not false modesty.
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