Thursday, August 13, 2009
Feature: Mike Finley Day 5
We are fluff that has been blown on,
We part company with one another
And float into the aloneness.
We wander so long
Borne aloft by breath, aching
To see one another again
Yearning to be stitched together at the foot
And it is like that until one day we come to rest
And realize that we carried the secret
Inside us all along, that we arise
From the core of a golden sun
And the day of blooming ourselves
Has been gathering inside us
All the while
Artwork and Poetry © Mike Finley
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How do you think your poetry impacts the lives of others?
This has to be an article of faith. You write something, you release it into the wild, and maybe it finds its way to someone.
You will never know what good it did anyone. But there is a chance that at some point – maybe years after you write the damn thing – it will come to just the right person, and they will find encouragement in it, or a good laugh that they really need to have.
There are more immediate points of feedback. Letters to the editor, comments on zine websites, email from editors and such. But that stuff is almost always inside baseball – people who are up to their ears in poetry, or people who want something weird from you, or want to swap compliments, or favors.
This weird talk is usually your fault, too. It is shop talk, which is usually brutal.
Maybe at a party, someone who has had a drink will realize you are that guy, and they will say, “Oh, that made me cry!”
And if you are very fortunate, you will be able to accept that compliment. You gave a gift, and years later, it made its way back to you.