Monday, March 31, 2014

Before You Begin (Poem 365)

to kill a poem 
before you begin 
decide: a masterpiece 
an epic important problem 
of intention and meaning 
decide: an elegant haiku 
to be quoted down 
the centuries
assign: an emotion 
tell people: what you plan 
to write about 
tell yourself: this 
is a poem 
insist on the form 
before the content    squeeze 
the cow into the carton
be inflexible about looking 
at the world through a haze 
of intimate wisdom 
be too flexible about 
your nonfat milk turning
walk through water, missing 
the exit feeling    guilty that 
the wish of doom
scratches against 
the toothy sketchbook paper 
on the table


(c) 2014, by Hannah Six