poetry is like a tree -
if you took all the metaphors
and gave them to me
i’d have them strung up on the clothesline
by half a quarter to 3.
this is not to say i’m The poet -
not all poetic devices are metaphors -
but i feel quite comfy
like an albatross egg in a nest
with lesbian parents - (they exist!)
what do you think?
this is to say that like a tree
the words branch out from me
for i am the center
of all that sprouts from my body (or brain).
am i LG..
does it slip through my writings
like my //college app essay// about noticing
but it was really about
demystifying horrifying sexualizations on tv --
why did that producer or costume designer
to bring it gleaming by
rule of thirds
to attention on the screen?
raised eyebrows, at me
my English teacher, questioningly
press start, please (the green button)
for onset panic and Anxiety
she is a Lit teacher -
not as in AAVE but as in lit-era-ture -
ok, proceed. (my mind says to me)
you may now begin to scream.
(because why wouldn’t she
be able to read
((oh my god i think i’m gay))
((taking every opportunity to express without giving it away?))
Albatrosses aim to carry me
from their nest with nitpicky maneuverings
into the green, growing TREE of Connections and Community
where i belong
--not this stuffy classroom
where panicked-Me is panickedly doing Things
not conducive to my being Free
..though the poetry readings do please me.
but not to say i am the Tree
it’s not that poetry needs me -
why would it -
but that I! need poetry.
so you see, that’s why
i aim to be
all a poet needs to do
to be free
is to poet-