I have been sorely remiss in not acknowledging that April is National Poetry Month. There are other bloggers who have been doing an exemplary job of that (I'm talking about you, Melanie). Plus, I admit I had so much fun commemorating it last year that it was hard to think of a way to top myself. And there's that little issue of, the project from last year? Pretty much hasn't been touched since last year.
So this year, I give you only a poem. But a good 'un.
by Mark Strand
Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.
The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.
The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.
Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs burn like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.
She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
I am a new man.
I snarl at her and bark.
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.