Image and Word | Poetry
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Poetry

Poetry used to seem important. It was a profound way to say profound things. There was art in structure, in cleverness, in emotion. We like to think there still is. We really don’t know if poetry should happen at the end of a pen, behind a keyboard, or behind a microphone. If it should have silence or beats. If it’s legitimized by academia or the street. If it’s good.

Doesn’t matter, all that matters is that it’s here.

Excerpts
(the answer to the koan
about the dog
is
yes
yes
yes
one hand
clapping
is
perfect rhythm
for jazz)

From the poem
“Eulogy for All”

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