So many poems these days remind me of a college poetry class presentation. Not the students who genuinely want to be there there. No, the students who took the class for an easy A and are now forced to write to pass the class. Is it really poetry if you don’t feel it building in your stomach like a raw oyster. Is it really poetry if it doesn’t make your heart flutter like your heart itself is the butterfly? Is it really poetry if you can’t feel it traveling down your veins like electricity to sparkle at your finder tips? Is it really poetry if the sight of your words doesn’t make your tongue tingle like you just bit a lemon, but too sweet too be bitter? Is it really poetry if you don’t occasionally look back upon it in disbelief that you really wrote it? Yes, yes it is. Poetry is whatever you want it to be. So take a bow you easy A’s, it’s beautiful to me. Every line and every word is juicy poetry. This is what poetry is for me, but that’s not what it has to be. You can explore you can experiment you can exercise it, but never let anyone tell you how to write it.