Neither who nor why, neither how,
when, nor where concerns poetry,
which is too dear for journalism & history –
alchemic professions that use pens as
scissors to divide days and transform
moments into monuments, to freeze
seasons in place according to whether
one’s aspirations are prescriptive, proscriptive,
or scribbled on the back of napkins in the
cafe du monde, where everybody knows
the curds are as good as the whey, and
now you know the way poetry works.
Dave Read