The Secret Of Poetry by Jon Anderson
The Secret Of Poetry
Jon AndersonWhen I was lonely, I thought of death.
When I thought of death I was lonely.I suppose this error will continue.
I shall enter each gray morningDelighted by frost, which is death,
& the trees that stand alone in mist.When I met my wife I was lonely.
Our child in her body is lonely.I suppose this error will go on & on.
Morning I kiss my wife’s cold lips,Nights her body, dripping with mist.
This is the error that fascinates.I suppose you are secretly lonely,
Thinking of death, thinking of love.I’d like, please, to leave on your sill
Just one cold flower, whose beautyWould leave you inconsolable all day.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.
MARGINALIA
I haven’t slept in three days. I feel transparent. A ghost. I am dissolving. A few more days and I just might be able to pass through anything. Or become as pale as air.
ABOUT JON ANDERSON
Poet Jon Anderson was born in Somerville, Massachusetts. He earned a BA at Northeastern University and an MFA at the University of Iowa. During his lifetime, Anderson published seven volumes of poetry, including Day Moon (2001), The Milky Way: Poems 1967–1982 (1983), the National Book Award–nominated Death & Friends (1970), and Looking for Jonathan (1968). His poetry has been featured in numerous anthologies, including The New American Poets (1960), The Morrow Anthology… (more)
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ENDNOTES
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