a word in the beginning
is the genesis of poetry
where it derives itself
out of its own becoming
it all starts with a single word
of course it does you might think
but not in any banal sense
there's more to it than that
to speak of words and how
poems can spring from words
does seem almost nonsensical
yet the finding of a word
can lead to musings that grow
into feelings emotions and
even at times evolve into
what long ago was described
as a spontaneous overflow
but now there is no tranquility
this is not a time for poets
to be mired in transcendentia
to be lost in romantic longings
for the reconciliation of our
selves and our world
which of course has long been
the realm of religion then
poets tried to fill the void
but now it would seem we're left
with politicians who offer hope
with nihilistic invocations
of the name of jesus
as just another empty word
but a word as the beginning
can be a password into
the discourse into the logos
into the primeval machinations
of language itself and the infinite
play of signifieds
the key however is the word
its genesis must be
outside of ideology
if that is even possible
and while it must be free
of unnecessary pedantry
and eschew the sesquipedalian
it must also transcend the mundanity
of the diurnal with a wisdom
a genius beyond the reach
of the initial glance
beyond mere pronunciation
it must reach into its own
resonance its innuendo
and whether it is like the song
of the nightingale
or the blackbird
whether it invokes the angels
of bethlehem or benjamin
in the end it must survive
in the ritual of its recitation
its saying its reading
its writing