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Showing posts from August, 2018

A Poet on Tinder

Give me an old poet who would appreciate what I am saying—who inspires me by his lifetime of work and dream only if we were the same age, what life we would have had, what children would have come out of our poetic forms. Or give me some young, dapper fellow who appreciates the Arts and me, who understands the doldrums; when to draw the curtains, when to let light in, when to plan a party, when to let me stand staring at the tree in the yard while handing me a cup of fresh brewed coffee without breaking my meditation. But no one like that exists in my world. I learn to tilt my head just so for a kinder response from the peanut gallery who hum and haw, yawn and impugn at my assumable carriage.  I go to book stores and grocery stores and walk through each aisle and question.  If I had enough time  I’d go to the university and do the same at the library in search for the university lecturer who would gladly abide and amuse me for a moment, disregarding yo