How does a poet attempt to view and experience the world as a poet in a world that does not reward those characteristics? I will try to answer this question as the daily grind locks horns with the aesthetics and poetics of a working poet.
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05 December 2012
The Voice in Your Heart is Not Your Own
That’s what my heart said.
It kept saying it for so many years; after so many
disappointments, it still said it: Try.
But after the last one, after he passed, it stopped.
The heart stopped saying it, as if the reason it had been saying it
was that it was his heart, not mine. All those years,
he was telling me to keep trying.
The voice in your heart is not your own.
Another’s heart, instead, speaks to you,
and when it goes silent, you tear at your universe,