a poem is merely an attempt
to construct authentic beauty
out of the artifice of language
but the beauty of a poem is not
built on images of the observable
and is therefore perhaps
no different from other forms
for beauty does not reside in what is
visible but rather in insinuation
much like the difference between
inflection and innuendo
the beauty of a landscape
is not found in the brushstrokes
of the artist any more than
the splendor of a poetic line
is found in the stroke of the pen
or the arbitrary choice of a typeface
true beauty is about the response
about the consequence of perception
the romantics often wrote
of the intersection the overlap
of the sublime and the beautiful
which is surprisingly not unlike
a more recent poet’s claim that beauty
is nothing but the beginning of terror
it is as close to intense and overwhelming
fear as we can possibly endure
it is not simply a presentation
of soft symmetry or loveliness
it is the interactive juxtaposition
of a positive aesthetic response
with an overwhelming sense
of the unknown the unknowable
with what some have called the transcendent
and what others call the abyss
it is a part of the age-old belief
that there is something that is
bigger than us beyond us
and whether that something is
a warm and loving god
or a cold and empty nothingness
we can only really guess
but we can find comfort
in knowing that beauty lies
not in the lines of the artist
but in the interpretation
of their implications
so whether it is an awe-inspiring
sunset over smoky mountains
a painting of abstract water-lilies
an incomparable tenor aria or even
an especially poetic turn of phrase
beauty is in the impression
just as the beauty of a smile
lies not in the curve of the lips
but in the light of the eyes