01-29-2018, 02:44 AM
I want to agree with you, Adrienne Rich
Poets had better know what they're talking about
before speaking those first keystrokes;
words live on after we've moved on,
after we've passed on.
I want to believe
that this isn't the wild west,
where they'd shoot from the holster
spraying lead, that poets are Wyatt Earp
conquering the lawless,
the murderers and thieves
with true eyes, sure aim—
the boom and the smoke.
I wonder what you'd say
to the inconsequential suburbs,
or gravel roads—
to towns that are merely a black dot
on the map, not a prominent circle or star.
You're preaching to New York.
If you can make it there,
you become a legend.
You're talking to yourself.
Poets had better know what they're talking about
before speaking those first keystrokes;
words live on after we've moved on,
after we've passed on.
I want to believe
that this isn't the wild west,
where they'd shoot from the holster
spraying lead, that poets are Wyatt Earp
conquering the lawless,
the murderers and thieves
with true eyes, sure aim—
the boom and the smoke.
I wonder what you'd say
to the inconsequential suburbs,
or gravel roads—
to towns that are merely a black dot
on the map, not a prominent circle or star.
You're preaching to New York.
If you can make it there,
you become a legend.
You're talking to yourself.