Poem: The Poet

The Poet

I am an imprecise historian,
a snake oil salesman of emotions that are true
on stages that often are not,
created of light and fog and here and there
a set, created for the moment
of paint and plywood and a sprinkling of pixie dust,
looking for truths that truth is too weak
to tell.

About this poem

I have to write a version of this poem every so often just to remind people that what I write is poetry, not history or current events. Now and then the two come together, but mostly, for me, they live in an eternal tango, close and apart, always dancing in a love-hate relationship with each other.

Never trust a poet. Always trust a poet.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s