Monday, 30 May 2011

Credo The Day

Something is wrong in the way that I'm writing
what I'm writing about or why.

I asked the poems to be Aztec descriptions of things
in the familiar world and that is all they obediently are.

They have the rhythm of things that are like other things
buckled and braced with similes, turreted clauses.

When you say, it is like, it is like, it is like, you make emphatic
equations: inward-looking things. The true poetry

can't be far off – like parallel universes, you're nearly there –
but not until you shrug off this vector.

No comments: