A Poem on the Radio

I don’t always write poetry, but when I do…I have no idea if it’s any good. Stay metaphorical, my friends.

A Poem on the Radio

On the radio the poem of an author I cannot remember is spoken,

But biographical minutiae quickly follow and allegory is broken.

They shatter meaning, pluck the poem from my hands and ground it in the drudgery of historicity,

where once I found the universal, the magical, synchronicity.

For a fleeting moment, a beautiful instant, the poem was mine; me in it and it in me,

but explanation infringes and fills the void so that nothing else can be.

Suddenly, insight is complete, imagination pushed aside,

Private property cut out from the communal, the gift denied.

There is a reason the poet—like God—hides.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s