Poetry Is Misdirection

to those that read the map that is printed for this moment. i leave the letters open to trap you. remember poetry is misdirection, by way of words. Branching symbols speaking themselves are new glasses for the world… if you must steal grapes from the vineyards of the gods. do not as the proverbial fox reject them because they hang just out of touch. do it early while your young… for it is embarrassing in ones hoary age to forgot why you have climbed over the wall to claim impetuously imagination’s shapely fruit. feel your way through the stanza and the wayward lines tap upon metaphors to find the secrete chamber that holds all the answers