We hold these poems to be self-evident:
the shadow of a palm tree as it approaches noon
is a poem;
Las lagrimas–the tears that flow to the ocean for lost love
are a poem;
Birdsong in the dead of night, a rooster at dawn
and a dog’s distant barking:
each is a poem.
A lost child in a mall who prays to find mother
prays a poem.
The punchline of a favorite joke, shared with a forgotten friend
–suddenly rememberd, as if by ambush–
is a poem.
Pleading eyes for hunger or lust or warmth
plead a poem.
The arctic Aurora Borealis in smeared-sky rainbow;
the infinate disc-edge of a black hole;
the radiation soul-heat of the bang
that was all big creation:
these each play in the top ten
greatest hits, nightly, of this very station:
Radio Poetry Supernova X