POETRY: ‘Sit Down Already (Ars Poetica)’

Contributed by: Mi-Miae Chong, accounting major

 

a deduction of the human art

whose paved and re-paved roads

all lead to a crumbling shack

where lambs are led

 

every day is poetry

no, not the victorious sun

claiming the sky as his own

but the red palette of farewell

as it crumples into tomorrow

 

and the clean air of winter

has its own charms, it’s true

but what strikes to the soul

poetically cuts it through:

the blue, biting wind – the carving knife

a coat cannot keep you from

 

between woman and man

there is kind, courtley honey –

but this is not poetry or worth a word

it is the hunger of an un-sweetened

touch, gripping in hard, hip-bruising want

and a woman’s soft curves yielding

in “no-yes-no” surrender
t

o be part of his depths…

 

but I will stop now with these contemplative

shams and tell you the truth:

I cannot make a meal of a mouse

no matter the spice or side dish

just as I cannot and do not care to define

a mundane, subjective, trifle

such as the unimaginative, middle-school

question of  “what is poetry to you?

“
Either you see it or you don’t

how can any writer be expected

to spell it out for you?

Be happy now with the past few stanzas

 

and sit down already.