"If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry." - Emily Dickinson
It's mean accuracy and angry power that can cleave the top off a head;
neither merely scalping the reader,
nor decapitating him.
Popping the top to blow the mind is samurai surgery.
Some lines tink against the forehead like a dull knife,
while others - with razor-sharpness - succeed only in shearing an unsightly bald spot.
The fabled Taoist butcher could cleanly slice between the bone ends,
never dulling his cleaver,
but that's not much help for one seeking to take off the top of a head...
or is it?
This entry was posted in poem, Poetry, Taoism, Writing and tagged Dickinson, Emily Dickinson, poem, poetry, Taoism, writing by B Gourley. Bookmark the permalink.
