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World’s Great Staycation
on the simplicity of poetry
This poem won’t be in a lit mag,
it’s not likely to be repeated, as such,
I’m only trying to make the point here
that many times, we draft too much
Poems needn’t make you weepy like Hallmark,
but their design ought to make you feel,
whether angry about orange tyrants,
or an internal clash over what’s real
And no, we don’t need to debate,
the interpretations are yours alone,
whatever I happen to write that day
leaves my fingers, seeking your brain as home
It’s ok if you disagree,
find my metaphors largely overblown
sometimes I enjoy inflation —
see, I’m only the garden where they’ve grown
My seedlings goal is to lasso you in,
make you ponder some feelings here,
take a moment to rest laurels within,
debating connotations we’ve found, this year
These differences in our latitude,
our branched continental situations,
are more or less made up instigation…
