“Poetry is what happens when nothing else can.”
― Charles Bukowski
“what, anyway,
was that sticky infusion, that rank flavor of blood, that poetry, by which I lived?”
| Eating Poetry | ||
| 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, she screams.
I am a new man. I snarl at her and bark. I romp with joy in the bookish dark. |
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Inaugurated by the Academy of American Poets in 1996, National Poetry Month is now held every April, when publishers, booksellers, literary organizations, libraries, schools and poets around the country band together to celebrate poetry and its vital place in American culture. Thousands of businesses and non-profit organizations participate through readings, festivals, book displays, workshops, and other events.