What does it take to engage in/with a poem? I've been with Spicer now for years and neck deep in his Grail for the past two. I am still not there. That is OK. I love this hunt. I like going round and round and off on all sorts of adventures because of a few words on a page.
Today I was reading something on Jacket and the author of the review edited a magazine and so I looked. On the cover of this magazine was a beautiful woman. Her poems were inside. I could not wait. Before I could get to her poems there was a bio. She comes from an important family. Oxford University Press published her poetry books. Now I really want to know. And scanning down still farther, I begin to read a poem by Fatima Bhutto:
Yes, welcome to my pain. After this long search this is how a poem begins? Shit. Where else does the air go (and, mostly because I am already pissed of, does it go through? For the lungs, doesn't it go in)? This angered me. I am still angry, in my lungs. I read on, angrily, still in my lungs, and I find a nice end rhyme: sweet and heat. Fuck. Does this have to unfold this way? To ask these questions, do I need to continue with this poem? No.... this is enough. I am going out so that I may experience:
Breathed in through the lungs.
Maybe that was her point all along.