|Goddess Inanna, circa 2000 bc|
Yes, every morning.
If I'm rushed I sometimes read it later, because that's what it does, slows me down.
Brings me close to that meditative state.
And I see something differently.
|My art plate, 2015 ad, my idea of poetry in glazing|
And I feel much more deeply.
Our poets are cherished ones, who can look at a branch of leaves, or a spider, or a piece of anything, and turn it into phrases that bounce, or drag, that soar or slump.
Hail to the poets!
I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us -- don't tell!
They'd banish -- you know!
How dreary to be somebody!
How public like a frog
To tell one's name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!