To be a poet is the end goal you achieved it What did I acheive? You reincarnated me, not as a animal or a human. Not even a life form for that matter, But you put me in a sonnet in a cluster of words. I’m not religious as such but my god poets can resurrect.
Feeling in a simple rhythm The physicality of it is uncanny Words that I wish would slip past my tongue. My god poets can resurrect.
What pleasure is must be to bloom so sweetly. Does the words come quickly? Once I find my hand,fingers and knuckles. Pen to paper, finger to lips would it come naturally? We will see if I can bring air back into lungs deflated by time. May I stumble to present my work. Or hold my tongue as they look at the beginning. My god poets can resurrect.
Must I find sense of place? Drip a cigarette between my fingers Papered apartment full of hero’s of song,who now quite as you write the new. Ability coming naturally you insisted. Do I not need a Parisan perspective. Or do I need ordinary to flourish private extraordinary. My god poets,poets...can
The poem is about a person wanting to be a poet and wondering if they should be like some of the great poets or just be themselves