Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Words I'm Writing: A Poem (April 1, 2014)

I generally don't like reading poetry. Too often it's cryptic. Too often it's self-indulgent--little more than an author's in-joke--deliberately obfuscatory, or simply obscure, but that doesn't keep me from once in a while perpetrating the same.


A pearl
Is what an oyster conjures—
A sheath of smooth, bright nacre
Over sand that wounds

But what oyster
On what wave-lashed rock
Is ever asked to form a pearl
Not over jagged sand
But to fend against
What is keenly longed for—not once in a lifetime but twice—
And to shut away the selfsame haunting grain? 

I began this more than five years ago. I came across it today by chance and changed a few words that finally made it seem finished. Virtually no one will understand it, but I imagine poems are somewhat easier to decipher than visual art, which I fairly regularly create while feeling no need to explain. So, here is a poem: Make of it what you will.

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