Thing Language
by Jack Spicer
This ocean, humiliating in its disguises
Tougher than anything.
No one listens to poetry. The ocean
Does not mean to be listened to. A drop
Or crash of water. It means
Nothing.
It
Is bread and butter
Pepper and salt. The death
That young men hope for. Aimlessly
It pounds the shore. White and aimless signals. No
One listens to poetry.
My Soul's Ladder
Monday, July 6, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
Wow.
Thanks for posting this.
Have you ever read a poem (or seen a movie or heard a song or laid eyes on a piece of artwork) at the exact moment in your life that you absolutely need to read that poem?
I NEEDED to read this poem right now.
Thanks so much for posting it.
I feel like someone, a kind stranger, put his hand on his back as if to say without saying it: It's okay. We all feel this way.
Thank you, Billy for this poem right here right now.
Glad you could be inspired. I'm a recent Spicer admirer myself. I have the latest collected poems and really like it.
Sorry, I haven't responded sooner but I've been very busy, haven't been able to write poetry or do much of anything on the internet.
Post a Comment