It looks safe.
A small inconspicuous shady patch,
Reserved, once a month,
For an hour’s worth of poetry.
I hope to hear thoughts that transcend
My closely held view of yesterday and tomorrow.
Someone may offer another universe
Made accessible via some other poet's verse.
We six intrepid writers,
Accompanied by four spear carriers,
Approach the poet’s art
From mutually alien planets---
Therein lies our potential:
How close to honesty will we stray,
Trusting our audience to allow
For thoughts possibly repugnant, or incomprehensible.
Halfway through our one hour journey
I feel comforted by the ease
With which we avoid explanations,
And attend only to the spoken word.
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