What is a truth and a lie?
A photograph is the lie sitting, like a spider in the web of the truth.
What stays and what moves?
A river does both and stops doing both at the same time.
What is valuable and useless?
Love makes no sense and is all there is.
Poetry, good poetry like in The New Yorker,
Should not mention love.
It (good poetry) should dance around the emptiness
of the lack of it ,or dance
around
the poignant reach of hopeless rubes
living as if in square comic portrayals of themselves.
Leave love out, yo. (But yes, valuable and useless and all
senseless, yes.)
Love is all you need.