What is poetry? That dreaded question Posed by every English teacher To his cowering first-year class What but the artful application of words Layer by layer and stone by stone Each one selected with care Shaped and smoothed And placed one upon another To build the framework of an idea An image without substance A voice without sound A central image that I embellish Trying to impose form on a wisp Order on entropy Putting chains to the ankles of angels To bring them closer And understand their nature.
