Bonding, but not binding…

Think of them like politics –hollowed outwith a face imposed;only the poorlive the value.

Langston,while it’s therethat I’m proud to seeyour name on my‘also read’ listI just wanted you to know.(and happy 105th birthday, February 1 this year 2007…){{ and apologies to all those who googled or indexed this in the hope of reading something brilliant about him… the selection of his poetry here on Poemhunter is no way…

and how could a Poet Laureate ‘rejoice’-as they say in flowery poetic languagein the name of Billy?and it’s not so much readingas being with: as if you’re in the sameroom with him: he’s over there in the recliner,self-contained but friendly; he maysay nothing; or make an inconsequent remark;or launch into a fantasy; or saysomething unpretentiously…

I’d barely writ a line so fine, when the poem turned to me,looked me in the eye and ear, and laughed demonic-lee,pranced around me, singing, boo! you can’t catch me!ain’t no rules nor grammar for the boldheart and the free!race you round the chocabloc, poetic chairbound fatty!you’re just like every pompous poet, thinking always that…

the curtains moving gently in the breeze,listening to the spontaneous livelinessof the fountain whose joyful dropsthe sunlight plays with as they fall;catching the scent of a rosewhich comes and goes to the nostrilsas if it has its own intentions;watching the sunlight moving roundthe courtyard garden;remembering with an inward stirring,it’s the earth which moves…words passing through…

no other witnesses were present at the time,none of the jury were there of course,the judge was not theresome of the jury saidif he says so I believe him,some of the jury saidhow do I know that’s the truththey listened,his eyes shone;their hearts listened,their eyes shone;yes they said,that’s true