I am not sure about her
the rumors of her isolation,
how she wrote of life and death
through a looking glass, unknown
until four years after her passing.
Is experience what is seen
the movie-goer all the wiser?
Was love imagined on the backs
of envelopes that longed to hold
actual letters of lustful longing?
Write about what you know,
the admonition offered to those
who struggle to start.
But, what does one know of death
and immortality, without
the experience of life?
Whitman loved, Frost traveled
cummings worked, as did Stevens.
Are the feelings of one in a closet
the same as a record of observation?
Perhaps, we all know without knowing
what really matters, poetry
an accidental act of instinct.
Brad G. Garber lives and writes in the great northwest. He fills his home with art, music, photography, plants, rocks, bones, books, good cooking, and love. He has published poetry, art, photos, essays, and articles in many quality publications. He was a 2013 Pushcart Prize nominee.
