My heart lives in a bird cage made of bones. Sometimes I think it is not worth all the pain in the world to have this inside my body, to endure being wracked with pain at the tiniest things. But then comes along a poem that tries to rattle the life out of me, and suddenly I am grateful for the skin and flesh that holds this body, that keeps my heart from leaping out of my chest.

Bill Knott

The way the world is not
astonished at you
it doesn’t blink a leaf
when we step from the house
leads me to think
that beauty is natural, unremarkable
and not to be spoken of
except in the course of things
the course of singing and worksharing
the course of squeezes and neighbors
the course of you, tying back your raving hair to go out
and the course, of course, of me
astonished at you
the way the world is not.

One of the many things I would like to learn how to do is to write a short poem that would make you feel like it contains the whole universe in it.

Advice from the Experts
Bill Knott

I lay down in the empty street and parked
My feet against the gutter’s curb while from
The building above a bunch of gawkers perched
Along its ledges urged me don’t, don’t jump.