A poem is like an animal. You can love an animal too much, like when my sister hugged her kindergarten hamster, too hard. When you love a poem too much, it dies. You squeeze out the eyes and blood and soul, covered, and you have a dead animal. I mean, feed it and pat it and take it for walks and all that. Make sure it doesn’t bark at strangers. But remember who’s boss. Not easy.
Here, this explains it. You buy a puppy to impress girls, so you get laid.
That’s not love.
//This poem was written while I was studying abroad in New Zealand for 6 months. I spent a great deal of time alone while I was down there. It is definitely one of my dark humor poems. Please try not to take it too seriously.
The point of poetry is to share something and to experience something, or at least that’s how I feel about it. In the Spring of 2013 I had the chance to work with a group of 5th grade elementary school students to help them explore a form of writing not contained in sentence structures, proper grammar, or even sometimes real words. It was an amazing experience working with such young minds and hearing all about their own internal processes with writing. Those who shared and those who kept their writing contained on the page were a breathe of real inspiration. This image below is the book of poems we put together in honor of that 5th grade class out of Wheat Ridge, Colorado.