Ars Poetica: 13

~ after Wallace Stevens

~
step softly into an afterthought
a poem may be lurking
in the leaf litter

~ ~
if it lifts its wings
do not ask
where it is going

~ ~ ~
toads will sing a refrain
they will argue about the words

~ ~ ~ ~
in the tree are three buds
one will flower into a poem
eat the other two

v
remember
the hawk is always a hawk
remember
the hawk is never a hawk

v ~
walk with the ghosts of old poems
to the distant fence line

v ~ ~
wait for a poem with your mouth open
the rains will bruise—years may pass
find the one that tastes like rust

v ~ ~ ~
a poem will eddy, circle through prairie grass
rest in foam at the mustang’s mouth
beguile with its wild eye

v ~ ~ ~ ~
walk home
yogis, bodhisattvas, mystics
wait empty-handed
they will want to touch the poem

v v
when night cascades
over the hipline of your lover
you do not need the light

v v ~
rise in the night
drink a glass of milk
nibble at the words you’ve pushed
to the back of the fridge

v v ~ ~
don’t pocket your worries
for a walk into the river
the poem is never about you
the poem is always about you

v v ~ ~ ~
in the flicker of the streetlight
see how the blackbird’s beak
is cracked and mended with gold