Even Shakespeare

Oh, that double life

Though he wrote great stuff, even Shakespeare shat.
Dickinson baked great bread though she lived alone.
Keats sneezed; Pope put on pants one leg at a time;
And Lowell walked patterned paths desperate to be free
And yes, even Stevens worked in some plebeian employ.

Poets lead a great double life — in both the common
And uncommon worlds — both joining in the daily grind -
The utterly quotidian — while breathing ethereal reflections
Of what things really mean — how significance derives.
Diversions and insights cleave muck and marrow.

The best of them leave the rest of us slight tidbits —
They do what we could but often don’t — reflect -
With such fire on the rage of life’s absurdity —
Writing to boil out syrup where we see only sap.

For another read on poetry, try…

https://medium.com/scrittura/mayakovsky-8dc5c5c81898

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