I had these nightmarish dreams, enough to raise me from my pillow.
Mixing together analogies of novels, short stories
And just what are these things called poems?
I liken a novel to jelly
the kind that is loose, melts across a piece of toast
I liken a short story to jam
large chunks of firm eruptions, great big pieces of tasty flavor
I liken a poem to conserve
emulsifying many thick textures, small and tiny bits of rarities to savor
I wonder at the minds behind the poems
I wonder at what point that mind comes in
I wonder at what point that mind goes out
Do we need to pull that mind into ours?
to experience a poem's true meaning
who is the writer?
what does it matter?
a washing machine
through its agitation