Poetry: Right Brain
I am going to write a poem now. I am so tired of topic sentences, Supported by details, Restated in conclusions. I don’t need prose. Blocks of black syllables, Linked by transitional devices, Indented neatly, Three to a page... Depress me. I need a poem. Not rhymed or in pentameter, Snooty sonnets or cutesy cinquains, No ostentatious villanelles...
But free verse! Winging to heights invisible Before dropping,
drowning, Now reviving
high And soaring again. I will not use binder paper.
This poem will be torn from my life. And the paper will be creased, Ragged at the edges.
It will not need a title or a date. Nor, in the upper right hand corner, Will it need my name.