i must confess that a boo in the dark scares me.
words scare me too but far less and only when i know what someone is saying.
there are also the occasions when i mess up what someone is saying,
misconstrue it, misinterpret it, connect dots that don’t exist, get paranoid and
ultimately feel that same sort of boo sensation….danger.
Here’s my dilemma or i should say, one of my many dilemmas.
i heard that in order for a poem to be an effective one,
it has to surpise the reader, jar them, knock them off center, be dangerous.
But i’ve never read a poem that felt dangerous.
i’ve met people who seemed dangerous and they may have been poets,
but i could never be sure because poets don’t wear a name tag on their shirt that says ”poet.”
and even if they did and i were walking down a dark alley late at night,
a poet and an old handicapped granny holding a stack of coupons
could probably cause me a dangerous boo of similar proportions.
maybe i just haven’t read the right boo kind of poem yet?
or maybe poems would be better off not trying to be so dangerous?
but i’m human and so i fell for this poems have to be dangerous gimmick.
you see, i had this great poem written down the other day.
it was real honest and sincere and from things i had felt and seen.
it was about gymnastics,
about vultures vying for tops of trees,
a best seat in the house scenario
dibs on first pounce road kill.
then i got the gumption to make it sound more shocking,
add fangs and blood and what not,
throw in some sharper turns and surprises,
make it dangerous
i ruined the whole damn thing.
it didn’t sound anything remotely like me, but it was too late to go back,
the previous version was nowhere to be found.