Reading Simic

I tried balancing a bowl of hot oatmeal on my lap and reading his poems in my tired and worn, green chair. On the back cover of a collection, a reviewer wrote “Simic may end a poem with a kiss or a bludgeon. “ The reader will never know. Blackjack Fresno Johnny sent me a big box of books of Simic’s poems. The books were sent in a cardboard box inside of another cardboard box, thoughtfully packed. The address label read: To Tom Pitre, Poet. It is my first affirmation as a poet. I am always surprised when I read his work. Sometimes I think I have my finger on his secrets, and then it slips away when I read another one. They are simple. He can write about an earthworm in the mud, and you will be enchanted.