Poems and Poetry

Face Value | A Poem by J.K. Durick

I don’t approach things as cautiously as I did, always afraid
I’d miss something, as if meanings were tucked away, hidden
between the lines, behind the cupboard, or under the carpet, as
if the surface of things was a distraction, something to pass by
on the way to the matter’s heart, skipping the vehicle going for
the tenor, the underlying, missing the flower thinking about
beauty, overlooking the gift thinking about kindness, it was as if
the whole world was a puzzle to solve and the solution was more
important than the pieces in front of me, the ones I could touch;
the present lacked importance, played itself out on a larger stage,
a little Plato, a little Shelley, but now the abstracts seem like less
than the concrete, less than these things, actions, and the people;
so now I find the sound and feel of your words are generous enough
for me, what you meant to say I somehow missed along the way.

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