a descent into poetry insanity |
| what's a poem? she asks me, in the moments before her piano lesson. I tell her: once I saw a man with a knife turn a stick into a tiny, perfect gnome. That's kind of what poetry is. Imagine a mind full of everything in a life— ideas and stories, glitter and gunk, shining stars and icky snot: a carnage of thought— If you prod at it and cut at it, and whittle it away until everything extra is gone what you have left at the end is a poem. she says: I like it when they rhyme, and runs off to demonstrate a week of practicing skipping up from middle C. April 27—“Define” or “explain” something difficult, like a feeling or abstract concept… |