aMan Bloom - May I Write a Poem

May I write a poem
that has nothing to do with death
or love or the death of love
or the love of death?

That eschews the crudity of the moment
and neither denies, honors or vilifies the past
and sees the future as mere fantasy?

That seeks neither security nor freedom,
doesn’t declaim or proclaim,
isn’t whimpering or corny or crass,
doesn’t admire your wit or your ass?

A poem that isn’t about trees or babies or baseball,
that doesn’t provide any answers or ask any questions,
seeks no meaning, presupposes no purpose,
takes no politics and doesn’t lift anything beyond its means?

A poem such as this,
as just described and limited,
would it not simply mirror nature,
contain only pure beauty –

not a golden sunrise, but the sun rising,
not the kiss of a rose, but the rising kiss,
the ember, not the flame,
the point, the point, a point,
a word called ‘point’
a sound being heard sounding like ‘point’?

one finger, pointing…
a point on yesterday’s page
the point of a set of lines

standing on a point looking out at the calm sea
a sun rises and kisses your rosy face,
a poem like that.

xxx

aMan Bloom

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