1, poem, poetry, – Page 84

SHRUNKEN VERSION

shrink me
carve pieces off me
cut me
down to size

reduce me
condense me
down
to single molecule

erase
all that feels it has to burst
its boundaries, explode, expand
be liberating
be transformational

yes,
slice the heart out
of all that stuff

kill all that is poet, poetic,
make the poem, the poetry
go suicide

once upon a time I clung
to the fiction
it was
my purpose and meaning

now
I am far too old
for anything like this
at all
at all

I read the poetry
of the dead

which I would not
recommend
to anyone

for what
business
do they have with us
who live?

what trade in, what purchase
of
their defunct ideas

for
everything changes
moves so fast you
are no longer left
in any position
to recollect
things
that were;
all that was

and so
we are
so much the better
for not
knowing about them

better
not to let their words
trouble us
let us contrive
to forget

erase

take out of
the picture completely

I read the poetry
of the dead

their
dead poetry

disturbing the Hell
out of me