It is a plain craft when it’s done well.

Clear in the Moment

Poetry is among other things,
plain thought
A communication of moments
one to one
And yet it’s fashionable
and publishable
to obscure a vision
in labyrinthine language,
creating a kind of metered
cross-word puzzle

Labored over, Webster and Roget
in hand,
wandering and lost
in poetic fluttered thought
it becomes a run through fields,
waving gauzy nets,
hoping to pin down
a chloroformed specimen
Waiting for Godot in the pages
of The New Yorker

E equals MC squared
is such a simple concept
The formulation and proof
beyond the capability
of our more ordinary mind,
an envelope pushed
There’s true poetry in the complication
of Einstein’s mind,
simply presented, as a gift,
clear in the moment

Poetry Collection: The Smell of Tweed and Tobacco
This poem is included in
Jim Freeman’s
poetry collection


available here in print
or as an e-Book
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