Pollock in Words

Poetry should simultaneously sing the song  
of everybody, somebody, and nobody.  
It should, like a Pollock painting,  
rapidly and mysteriously make a mess  
of that which is accepted as truth.  

Poetry should rip open scabs  
until pages are soaked in blood  
of both reader and writer  
to remind us that  
although our scars hold novel shapes,  
we all bleed the color of the devil.
In this reminder, poetry should  
stitch up each wound it's created.