Most of my poems lately have been too long to post as pictures. Here’s one of the recent shorter ones. Occurred to me while walking around campus, wrote on my phone when I arrived to the next class. Click on the right of the photo to advance to the next part.
Poetry. Sometimes I admire carpenters (for example). People sit within their work, share dinner on their tables, sleep inside of their houses. Imagine being a plumber and someday knowing that thousands of people can bathe or brush their teeth or cook pasta because of your work. That’s noble; changes lives. I wonder if that’s a satisfying thought. Ever heard of a poetry outage? “The poetry is backing up – better call a type writer?” Do people worry? Does it make people evaluate their survival skills? Question their gardening abilities? Nah. I admire the trades, their necessity. Poetry is like garbage collection – apparent sometimes only in its stinking absence.
Here we are living in National Poetry month, so here is a quick little poem about humor that fits into a screenshot.