The Art of Poetry
When the subject of the poem cannot be
Determined at all at least not precisely
Because it is nothing less than everything
And so instead has to be experienced
Rather than read felt by flesh like a bee sting
When that is the sort of a poem you find
In which everything at once is referenced
Which speaks not only to the heart but the mind
And deeper to plumb seas of reality
Or unreality not that you must choose
When you see the magic which nobody sees
And when the roulette wheel will not let you lose
So you are left satisfied yet wanting more
When the poem like an incantation frees
All sorts of things you never thought of before
A hidden door opening to galaxies
The summer the winter the fall and the spring
All things all at once in the dance of the ring
Then you have tasted the art of poetry
Which art is the art I have chosen for me
Because it is nothing less than everything
+Steven Curtis Lance
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