poetry is time wrung through presence
which means there is no poetry in heaven
because there is no time in heaven
and poetry is what time turns into when you actually immerse yourself in it
when you actually live it
when you let seconds slide down your cheeks like rain
let your eyes rest on a detail like a back on a bed of grass
- for more than just a moment
poetry is what happens when the world seeps
into your pores so deeply
that it changes your body chemistry
adds iron to the blood
that drips off your tongue
it’s when you chew the world like cud til your molars give out
and spit it back out transformed
a diamond faceted in verse
from the pressure of your persistence
poetry is a blacksmith’s work
it’s an artisan’s craft
and just like any trade of its kind
the best ones’ work, simply reveals
what has always been there
all along
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