Ladder Lesson

Ladder Lesson

Ego so pleased
with yesterday’s poem
gloating in ownership
preening feather extended chest
head too big for reality
wrong wrench this joy in pride
best be happy the Great Whatever
chose to pass the poem through me
its human colon

— Smith, 1.21.2012

Decided in bath I was first a writer, second a poet, third a visual artist.

I know I have a knack for words, a gift for making collage assemblages, and an eye for fotografy — but I don’t know why, or where the talent comes from.

I did not decide to be writer poet artist fotografer — just discovered I was. But it seems the art and words come through me rather than from me, although sometimes it lets me add or subtract a word or collage bit on my own.

I can exercise the talent by creating, but I did not create the talent.

So how can I say this is my poem, my work of art, my fotograf? Basically I’m the poop shoot for this shit . . . it flows, and I facilitate its passage.