Specificity In Poetry

Alas when specificity is masked in its duplicity to temper its intensity it may have a propensity to touch the edges gently to stimulate us mentally to hide within the lilting verse a subliminally errant curse with subtle lines a bit too terse - then again it could be worse they could insert an asterisk - induce headshaking “tsk tsk tsks” So when asked to specify, I try, I try, I truly try to force my words into “the norm”, confine my ink, make it conform and yet it flows – a violent storm, from deep within a whirlwind born a spinning, loud and raucous horn wailing from a pen pricks thorn howling in both joy and pain, ranting at both sun and rain sitting ‘tween tracks rusted stain waving to life’s passing train. The trick - to call a word a word - not split it with poetic sword claim it left us empty, bored or thrilled, awakened, reassured the trick – to let the words find us to chip away our readers rust outwit our “learned” poets crust, open our hearts and slowly trust that in its harsh simplicity it stabs with cold specificity at the edges of rigidity and the barriers ‘’tween you and me. John G. Lawless ©3/29/2019