I've just started a longish poem about Li-Young Lee. It's not really long, not even a page. Yet, as soon as I've worked on it a day or two, I get the urge for the tiniest poem. A quatrain, or something lighter.
Always this urge comes after longer poems with the weight of the world, or at least the weight of the nouns in them: towards weightlessness. Little or no narrative. Something like the sense you get of a dream without remembering it.
Or is it the longing to be done with words? or the urge to cut out the mind's verbiage and be with just a few syllables, a phrase? Putting the single rose in a glass. Setting aside the bouquet.
Always this urge comes after longer poems with the weight of the world, or at least the weight of the nouns in them: towards weightlessness. Little or no narrative. Something like the sense you get of a dream without remembering it.
Or is it the longing to be done with words? or the urge to cut out the mind's verbiage and be with just a few syllables, a phrase? Putting the single rose in a glass. Setting aside the bouquet.
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