(This is a poem about reading poetry. Sometimes, we just need to sit back and read for pleasure)
There are two ways to do everything.
Sure, sometimes there’s three or four,
But the third or three hundredth usually falls
Somewhere between one and two.
As such, I know of two ways to read a poem:
Academically and pleasurably.
As an academic, you are expected to
Beat it to a pulp,
Force it to tell you its secrets like a TV cop,
If you cannot get its secrets the first time,
Break its lines joint by joint.
To read for no professor, for no test,
You can relax. You can listen.
The pressure is off and suddenly,
You’re doing what you meant to all along.