If I were you I'd try the following tactic:
try not to be yourself.
This involves deliberate probing:
What would a child do here? An accountant?
A sycophant?
George Orwell explored the down-and-outer life
on London streets, and hierarchical farmyards.
The poet rides a mood into a bank of clouds.
He tries to land a poem like a parachutist
touching down in meadow grass.
Living is a scavenger hunt
for resources. The poet writes a poem on Monday
searches for purple flannel flowers
on Tuesday, sells tickets to the fall
of Icarus on Wednesday.
A real estate agent dreams of a richer
inner life. He hears about a creativity implant.
Name your price, he says.
The poet toys with titles: Caring Spoils Everything.
God Knows, We Need Alternative Visions.
Loneliness of the Long-Distance Writer.
Joyce Carol Oates ran religiously
said how much it helped.
Her readers want to kno if she ran from
or towards.
Was it helpful to scream under the roar
of the train on the railway bridge?
It was. Going to see the vigilante movie also helped.
Want to make things better? First allow them
to get worse. The news star, on the verge
of resignation, says we should edit our lives
ruthlessly and frequently.
What will she do next?
Definition of spiritual gall:
the belief in a supreme deity watching over you.
Definition of spiritual humanity:
A wandering Ryokan monk dragging his tobacco tin behind
by a length of string.
The poet has a website--think obscure country lane
on which a goat comes
strolling, a flower between its teeth.
Please words, the poet says, do your job
unobtrusively--
a silent doorman granting passage.
The father of poet
Hart Crane invented the famous candy rings
called lifesavers. Hart's life ended when he jumped ship
and drowned on a rough night involving sailors
alcohol and a lurching Atlantic.
The poet's shirt is a spinnaker to lure the wind
but the collar is frayed, the tie a noose.
And one of his feet is caught in the current.
Audrey, the poet's partner, frees the foot
and the couple go for a hike.
Flora and fauna chaperone them: Lilly pillies
and sassafras, strung out water vines
all-singing lyre birds
darting ahead on the track.
Poets need gall and humility.
The gall to conjure an oasis from nothing
the humility to peddle it in the marketplace.
Audrey and the poet set up camp in a clearing
flanked by a stand of smooth-barked apple trees.
The poet follows the escarpment path
to the edge. He admires the void and steps closer.
What would the real-deal do here?
The poet steps back and eats a pear
with headphones on to amplify the crunch.
He audio-records his feelings.
The couple emerge from their tent at dawn.
The trunks of the apple barks
are converting sunlight into art.
What would a cat with three lives left
do here? What would an artist do here?
Hold the magnifying glass dead still
and try to be patient.
