The poet as prose can be but only so far - prose should aim to be clear, direct: mince words and that's rhetoric, hand-waving - logic requires straight lines, a few curves maybe, but strictly geometric (solvable preferably in finite time, boundaries & all) the poem hints, the lines are blurred, the curves speak to the birds, mix with blood & birth & then return to where word greets word, and the light that seeps in with each flight of dark is unconfined by space & time, yet bound by the liminality of joy straggling behind this burn of light is just its uncertain incomprehensiveness sure
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Earlier today I was trying to explain to my daughter, Amina, how I saw prose vis-a-vis poetry and how they intermingle. Amu understandably found my vagueness vague, so I wrote this poem.
Beauty.
the beholder’s eye 🙂
Fine job. A pleasure to read. Thank you for this.
g.r.
Thank you so much.