Sometimes poetry appears like a musician in a restaurant playing ragtime, boogie woogie or sad violin. Classical guitar plays to keep the ears snappy. Sometimes it appears like rock & roll or rhythm & blues. But whatever goes, the beat always careens in accord with harmonious spirt. It appears and it goes away.
Poetry is always elusive; always this far out of the way thing. It’s cute at times but it appears on a toilet stall wall or a greeting card. Even TV commercials at times appear as poetry. Evening news can be poetic if not painful. It turns up again and again. This poetry is making a guest appearance on the late show. It bops to reggae and appears through the lips of Jah. It rallies behind Buddha on a rainy afternoon.
Poetry appears to be eternal though always fragile and misunderstood. Sometimes it’s a pain in the ass when poetry appears. Like when you want to go to sleep and poetry shows up and keeps you awake. That sucks! It can appear when flubbing a date dancing at a show. It is everywhere and that is a scary thought. It appears in Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell and even in Louis Reed. Sometimes, once in a rare while, it even appears in my very own mind. . .