This poem is not complete. It does not
have an ending, nor a title. It may not
even be a poem. You see there
are line
breaks ,to interupt the
flow, and force your
eyes to go
where I
want them
to go.
It has not a scheme for rhyme or meter
but these days it doesn’t really matter
It could be a paragraph of prose broken down
into ineresting chunks for your
mental digestion.
All of this raises an interesting question:
What is a poem?
I am not prepared to answer
It is not a poem with the “usual” subject matter
It is not about my childhood
or my love troubles
or my conquests
or any profound thing
It is about…
