You’re using “you” in poems these days, the dreaded second person. So, you’ve found no way inside yourself—it’s just like staring at a mirror’s back—and “you” might blast a path? Each new day, you re-enact a dimly lit creation myth. Ten thousand iterations ought to do the trick: from chaos, to an ever-morphing set of forms, to entropy. The tragedies you love—Macbeth and Lear and Oedipus—have given you a glimpse of this, a life’s small arc refined to art. Last night, the burgers sizzling on the grill, you sat cross-legged, oracular, and drank a beer. The revelation: shadows, smoke.
About the Poet:
Thomas Zimmerman teaches English, directs the Writing Center, and edits The Big Windows Review https://thebigwindowsreview.com/ at Washtenaw Community College, in Ann Arbor, Michigan. His poems have appeared recently in Black Coffee Review, Ephemeral Elegies, and Molecule. Tom’s website: https://thomaszimmerman.wordpress.com/
and much colder
Very nice metaphor.
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