Updated: May 20, 2022
this is not art
this is imprisonment.
i, the poet, am confined
in the poem.
There are two separate reasons people are creative. Some create to express, some to communicate. The former is part of the latter. If there is no expression, what is there to communicate? We share ideas, our perceptions of the world, who we are. For the longest time, I wrote only to express. My audience was a congregation of one. Me.
It eventually dawned on me I had an audience in mind as I wrote. I desired connection with other people. I sought not only agreement, but a dialogue of ideas and views with those who read and celebrate poetry. There are poems in other languages, from other cultures, genders and identities. We are more the same than we are different.
This post is the first in a series of entries of old poems of mine. I hope to continue this once a week on Thursdays. This first poem, titled "the prisoner" was written in 1996, and is a sort-of beginning for me of the idea that our souls are bound within the bars of our creative outlets. It is also a good example (in my opinion) of the minimalist aesthetic I am so fond of. Please consume responsibly.