What is poetry?
I said I was going to poetry class.
What is poetry? The baby,
who is no longer a baby, asked
sitting in the backseat,
strapped in like a fighter pilot.
How do you explain poetry
somehow true and a little quiet?
I told him it was writing
with every word mattering
for what it means and how it
sounds and sometimes astounds.
It is humbling overusing words
startled and scattering like birds
to describe an economy of language
on the knife-edge of honesty, because
how do you say what poetry is
To someone who is still plucking words
fresh and raw,
fearless in his choice
I watch in awe
As he leaps without checking or second-guessing
just to see how a new one feels
in his chubby cheeks
his vocabulary is untarished by anxiety
Everything he says is poetry to me
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Oh this is so beautiful...pure poetry