Right off the bat with poetry,
if you’re reading this,
you’re doing it wrong.
Poetry is meant to be heard.
It’s the way that it’s always been.
So use your diaphragm,
your voice to read it out loud
It doesn’t matter if you’re in a coffee shop ,
have the guy typing on his laptop give you a glare
while you howl about your Ginsburg
But yet you look at the poem,
lying there on it’s page etherized
like a cat in the fog
and you think about how gto read it.
You see the odd line feeds
breaking up the words the sentences
and you think to yourself
how should I read this? You read it.
The line feeds Maybe pauses
or maybe breaks
or they may be just flourishes
put on the Page by the poet
because he thought it looked pretty.
Unless of course you’re
Mr E E Cummings and you spread the words about the page (randomly)
like traffic on a Wyoming freeway
to try to give it that look you call Jazz.
But I never really liked jazz.
The poem is the words coming home
is the metaphors,
the poem is the similes,
the order is important
but the words
and the sounds they convey
of what the poet it’s trying to say
Yet, here we are,
still looking at the page
as I baited you
with blank space
With the thought
you should read
What your need to