Do not accept the things I say,
like, ‘Every picture speaks a thousand words,
yet poems paint a thousand pictures,’
because, although it sounds profound,
it isn’t. Poems are not pictures.
They are. Don’t listen to a word I say.
Poems are shooting stars: we miss them
unless we keep our eyes wide open.
So read. Pick up a book of poems,
or else you’ll miss those miracles of light.
Don’t listen. Poems are just words,
and shooting stars aren’t even stars.
Like truth, a poem’s best discovered.
Oh, sure, occasionally we stumble
upon such things we think insightful,
but usually that’s when we’re pissed.
When last night’s revelations reach
the light of day, they hide their faces.
No need to search for truth: it’s everywhere.
Things are, and they are not. A poem is,
and also isn’t. Hold those thoughts.
Don’t hold those thoughts. Don’t search for truth.
But be alive to shooting stars.
Bottom line? Work it out yourself.
And never listen to a poet.