MY LUCK
After Abraham Ibn Ezra
At my birth the stars played me crooked
If I’d sold candles, it would never get dark
If I’d tried to be a big shot, it woulda been blank
If I made shrouds, everybody’d live forever
If I had a furnace store, you’d never need heat
If I went the ocean to swim, the seas’d part for me
If I were an arms dealer, there’d be world peace
WHAT MAKES A POEM A POEM?
My lecture is called “What Makes a Poem a Poem?” I’m going to set my timer.
It’s not rhyming words at the end of a line. It’s not form. It’s not structure. It’s not loneliness. It’s not location. It’s not the sky. It’s not love. It’s not the color. It’s not the feeling. It’s not the meter. It’s not the place. It’s not the intention. It’s not the desire. It’s not the weather. It’s not the hope. It’s not the subject matter. It’s not the death. It’s not the birth. It’s not the trees. It’s not the words. It’s not the things between the words. It’s not the meter. It’s not the meter-…
[timer beeps]
It’s the timing.
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