I Read Another Poet I Could Not Understand


I read another poet I could not understand
The metaphors racing one after the other
The eternal thoughts taking on a new particular dress
Words and more words
Lines and more lines
Rushing toward meaning and beauty.

And in it all my simple not understanding,
My waiting to hear words that would return to me-
My understanding
That only by my own effort
By my reading again and again
By my willing to believe
Could I make another poet real.

But do I want another poet to be real
When I am a question,
And when there are already others real for me also?

Oh selfish little man oh poor poor reader-

Write your poem alone again
As if no one but you will ever be able to write
The poems which are real.

by Shalom Freedman

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