(Part of an experimental thread to share poems or poetry-adjacent writing, as discussed here.)
My favorite aunt
who was like a second mom
always said “write more.”
While I edited
essays over and over,
she wrote whole new books.
She liked that challenge
of writing a whole novel
in a month—simply
cranking it out and
I guess not much caring if
anyone reads it.
She probably wrote
more words after she retired
than I did ever.
Hardly anyone
besides Carolyn cared much
that I wrote lyrics
(which are my best poems)
and experimented with
whatever this is.
Really I don’t know
if this fits the genre “poem”
or if it matters.
Whatever it is
of course I’m aware it is
not just failed haiku.
Often I get bored
with things that call themselves poems.
I don’t mind this yet.
This is simply me
trying to articulate
some ideas I have
fairly concisely
and above all precisely.
And for some reason
this five seven five
sometimes seems to help it flow,
no footnotes allowed.
The essays I write
often end up in gridlock.
All the routes to choose—
the abstract options
stops to address that hater
that missing footnote.
I think I once read
that old zen guys made paintings
in one single stroke
and always put flaws
in every pot they made
just on principle
which is pretty much
the opposite of what scholars
are supposed to do.
(Must I research pots
now? If I say “old zen guys"
might I be cancelled?
I do wonder if
academia destroyed
my poetic voice.)
My aunt said “Why not
just start a sort of journal
and see what happens?”
This one is not first
because it’s best, but rather
for introductions.
That’s a risk, I know
but the whole idea of me
sharing poems is risk.
I apologize
if it seems to waste your time.
There is no pressure.