My Two Cents

I’ve read and re-read that poem several times. I have no idea what it’s about. "Shit / on the soup, let it burn." What the fuck is that supposed to mean? No wonder most people don’t like poetry – they have to come across something like this, and then feel stupid because they don’t "get it." Well I for one don’t get this.

Maybe I’m not giving the poem enough of a chance. But in terms of my aesthetic, I’ve always been of the camp where the writer and the poem need to do the brunt of the work. "Willfully mysterious" is a term that’s thrown around a lot in workshops, and I have no hesitations applying that term to the poem above.

I mean – seriously. I’m reading yet again now, as I type this. What the hell?