Did you see today's news headline?
'Swedes Beam Poetry into Outer Space'
it takes 25 years to get to Vega
and the review comes back 50 years after writing it.
One in three of us, the stats say, lives alone. Sad;
but fine if you prefer it that way.
It's late at night. You're alone. The PC off at last. The TV off.
So often, poets
with their poetic eyes,
ears, minds, hearts, souls,
record actions that
you come from a family that –
well, I’ve known better and,
Suppose it said – and, yes
it has been said, that
you were made to be
as much the same, as God,
That’s the word we use
for the abrupt suddenness
of the old rubber-squeezed car horn
I was born to be a metaphor;
Darwin, embarrassed, did not talk of me;
I did not fit into his scheme of things; I,
knowing secrets of the tears of things,
A gentle touch upon the forearm
with a hand, gloved or warm with life,