Why Do You Write These Poems?

by John McKernan

I hear the voice
Of friends mumbling

Actually
I am not writing this poem
I am erasing it….Using an Exacto knife

Scraping vowels
And consonants
From the window
Spray painted black

As I work
To carve each letter
Thin rays of light
From the sun moon stars
Flow in this room

Onto my skin and my clothing
Years ago I glowed in a dark womb
Before I slept in the open
And wore the white silk of starlight
Listening to what the flute says
The world will be saved by beauty
—-
—-

John McKernan grew up in Omaha Nebraska and taught for 41 years at Marshall University. Now drug-free and a retired comma herder, he lives–mostly–in West Virginia where he edits ABZ Press. His most recent book is a selected poems, Resurrection of the Dust. He has published many poems in many places–such as The New Yorker, Atlantic Monthly, Paris Review and elsewhere.

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