The New Yorker Poem Poem, by De Suin, at My poetic side

When I opened and read a poem

Which I judged myself reliable

For it went in mind for couple hours

Twirling down the spiral lake

I saw butterflies and roses

Saw them red and pink as proses

And the mirror in my head

Pointed back to all the rest

When I chose to sink deep

Into all that’s neat and clean

But oft the brain necessitates

Of some window tainted grey

Through the light passes yonder

Beneath the arches ‘cross the bay

I sit crossed upon this table

Saddened for I missed the name

I recite that poem meaningly

Hoping you will down and see

Dirty minds they think alike

When the cows they wet their teeth

And the yellow hay I wonder

Must it all be turned unseen

Walked the river the river walker

Sat on top the Empire State

And discerned that in that city

No worthwhile poem could be made

And the schools still teach of Epics

Journey Aeneid to upstate

For what came out of epic poems

What came out of poem’s sake

And what comes of modernism

And all the posts and all the same

Rivers flow wind blows beavers dam

Poets live among New Yorkers

And poets poem poems about poets

And that’s all.

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The New Yorker Poem