If this is April, It Must Be National Poetry Month Again
April is National Poetry Month, the nearly futile annual effort to get Americans to pay the slightest attention to poetry. Good luck with that. But we will offer the feeble support of the little-pop-stand-at-the-far-end-of-the-cul-de-sac. The organizers recommend trying to read a poem each day. O.K. I’ll do my part and post a favorite line or two of doggerel daily for the duration. Instead of starting with a famous poet, I will indulge myself by sharing my personal manifesto as a poet from my 2004 Skinner House collection We Build Temples in the Heart.
Invitation
Here, let me put my thumb in your eye
that you may see.
Let me thrust my foot to trip you as you rush by
that you may examine the soil
Let me drive you until sweat soaks your shirt
that you may shuck lazy complacency.
Oh, we will have our moments
lying in the fresh grass together
watching the face of god
scud by in fleecy clouds.
Together we will know illumination.
But there is more to life
than transcendental moments
(however wonderful),
times when the spirit is best served
by thrusting arms past elbows
into the grease pit to seize the clog.
I’m sorry - I didn’t become a poet
to decorate quality-paper greeting cards
with noble sentiments
in graceful calligraphy.
You have me confused with someone else.
So come if you will,
let me kick you in the shin.
I love you.
-- Patrick Murfin