Poetry In fact poetry will not strike lightning through any convoy of chickens Today poems are like flags flying on liquor store roof poems are like baboons waiting to be fed by tourists & does it matter how many metaphors reach out to you when the sun goes down like a stuffed bird in tropical forest of your solitude In fact poetry will not sing jazz through constricted mouth of an anteater no matter how many symbols survive to see the moon dying in saw dust of your toenail