The poem, for me, is simply the first sound realized in the modality of being.
I was playing catch with the European audience.
Knowledge is the harvest of attention
This morning of the small snow I count the blessings, the leak in the faucet which makes of the sink time, the drop of the water on water.
Whatever you have to say, leave The roots on, let them Dangle And the dirt Just to make clear Where they come from.
A poem is energy transferred from where the poet got it (he will have some several causations), by way of the poem itself to, all the way over to, the reader.