When your head is napalm

does poetry work?


Poetry has a Purpose

It is not meant to be dissected

and studied

in a college classroom.

It speaks

or it doesn’t.

What would the wisest man in the world do?

Would he operate a financial strategy podcast

while raking in millions of dollars like dead leaves?

Would he get married and raise a family

or spend hours in a cave by himself, thinking?

What purpose can poetry have, if it’s only words?

I don’t know…

but I do know, people aren’t getting any better,

and poetry speaks to my soul.

The frontier

is a novelty, like technology

Martian rocks are red and dead

Poetry is read and alive

Is there water on Mars?

I don’t care. I have this one life

and I know a few simple things…

We are alone—and I don’t need to travel to Mars

to understand that.

It isn’t dead things

that make me feel good.

It’s the woods—

jewels, with wings, that fly, and chirp

flowers, and wet water


to me

while the mountains talk.

Stars, have stared, into my eyes

dreams, are written there.

I spend much of my life asleep

few, speak

over the thousands of voices, who don’t know my name



is like a wise owl

filling the black silence

with its warm cheer.


5 thoughts on “Poetry Knows My Name

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