Monday, September 30, 2013

Lost poems

I read an interview Maria Shriver did with Mary Oliver.  It was a wonderful window into one of my favorite accessible poets.  Like many poets, Mary is at work on several poems at a time.  Mary, it seems, is never without a writing implement and paper, even at night.  I admire this.  This is not me.  I lose poems all day long. 

They litter the streets we walk
When we don*t have a mind
To catch them,
To open our hands,
Not let them slip
Through our fingers.
When we simply do
Other things.
I lose poems
All day long.
They cover the floor
Of my office
Under the altar.
They walk the aisles
Of Trader Joes
Or sit on shelves.
Sometimes I read a poem
Someone else has caught.
I think:
That poem
Might have been mine.
I am glad
Caught it,
Picked it up,
Took it off the shelf,
Brought it home
And fed it.

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