if I were teaching poets now?
read, I would tell them
read and read and read
then read some more
not necessarily who I did
although I still prowl those readings
and find inspiration there
and some nights find despair
read til you know
or think you do
old masters you admire
old masters you think were crazy
old masters you wonder why
ever embraced what their poems claim they did
love poems, angry poems, praise, and curses
learn to know the differences
between bards, poets, and fabulists
between students and idealists
revolutionaries and recalcitrants
and read your contemporaries too
prowl for the ones that stir your mind
those who make your blood move to their rhythm
those who explore with rhyme
and those who glory in its death
but never let your reading stop your writing
write and write and write
(and if you need me to tell you this
consider another calling)
write to listen to words play
write to experiment with language
write to listen to how you think folks talk
then go out and listen, sit still and listen
work beside them and listen
all the while writing, writing, writing
how some words jump out of the streams like trout
and others hide in shadows
some words play ring games and others run and kick
and some don't play at all no matter how you coax
try forms, there must be reasons for them
read what other poets say about how they write
and argue with them
why is your way better for you?
present your work to audiences
go back and present new work
then newer
find new audiences and try out new work
and when all this gets old or wearying
consider which is dying
poetry or you
look for a job that satisfies
throw yourself into it
burn yourself out
but what I wish for you instead is
never let your poet's play run quiet
keep toying with words and listen to them play
so that even while you're dying
and you will, all of us do
you are still hearing words tumble and somersault
and still catching the order that shows off that play
No comments:
Post a Comment