My poetry is jamming your machine
It broke the photo-copier, I’m to blame,
With pictures copied from a world unseen.
o
My poem is in the works -I’m on the scene
We free my verse, and I confess my shame,
My poetry is jamming your machine.
o
Though you berate me with what might have been,
You stop to read the poem, just the same,
And pictures, copied from a world unseen,
o
Subvert the icons on your mental screen
And open windows with a whispered name;
My poetry is jamming your machine.
o
For chosen words can change the things they mean
And set the once-familiar world aflame
With pictures copied from a world unseen
o
The mental props give way, on which you lean
The world you see will never be the same,
My poetry is jamming your machine
With pictures copied from a world unseen
o
Malcolm Guite