Hello friends, Christa here. I've never met anyone who loves poetry more or more wonderfully draws

into a leaf what poetry works in us. Why it is such an important way with words for humanity

at all times and especially for this tender time we inhabit. It's been such a pleasure to offer

the gift of Padrex labor of love to you. I would be, we would be, so grateful if you'd consider

becoming a patron of poetry unbound. If you like me love poetry unbound please learn more

and make a gift at on being.org slash love us.

My name is Podre Gautuma and I like all kinds of poems and all kinds of art. Sometimes you read

a poem and you go, oh I have the way in or you go to a gallery and you see a piece of art and you

think okay I get it. I may like or not like the message but I get it I see what's happening.

But sometimes you look at something and you go I don't know what I'm seeing or you read something

and go why does that word follow that word and that word. And sometimes you can feel a bit foolish

to think maybe I didn't pay attention in school that day or I'm not clever enough to get it.

But the piece of art has an intelligence that's emotional and often I think the experience you

feel while you look at something is actually part of the response to the art. So when I read a

poem where I go I don't get it I allow that to be part of the experience and I think what an

intelligent poem to communicate confusion to me and a poem that might be saying what an art is

happening to me.

In a lock of hair by D. Jean Annouc Ockpick

In a lock of hair becoming a spine like tendon in stagnant blood might I find I don't know

liquid light glass grooved and lashed together a brown feathered and horned angel owl

damned in a part of breast-cossoped armpit where spindle shanks polished by gray silt

dash ruined my middle chest caves in. When a wasp nest unravels the gray paper like a head of lettuce

...