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How to Write Poetry
A Year of Sonnets #108
1 min readNov 3, 2019
Not every poem’s brilliant, but it goes
with forward motion to some certain end
and nobody can ever truly know
exactly how the poet deigned to bend
the rigors of the language to their whim;
uncertainty rests heavy in the song,
but even if the poetry seems skim
all likelihood, they’ll string something along
because the words are fun. A poem’s a play
and words are Legos rising to the sky
to decimate, rebuild another day
though critics ever ask wherefore, oh, why?
Whereon a poet, scouting out his toe
may shout to heaven: fuck it if I know!
