Poem: Ode to Poets Who Make Sense | Poetry | Hudson Valley | Chronogram Magazine

You paint murals with your words for community center
walls, preaching unity of racereligiongendersexequality
and its damningly beautiful because we might never get
there but we totally get what you’re saying, bro. And how
do you paint those tiny little elephants on tiny little canvases
to stand on those tiny little easels without them looking like
hippos or horses or like you smudged a bug with your thumb?
Consider this my invocation. I’m not looking for the Muse of
God or your aunt’s great secret which she swears is at the bottom
of a bottle that tastes like literary Nam, just to chew the same
grass as you or maybe steal your poem when you aren’t looking.

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