Travels

            I was told to choose six poems, with no direction as to how to pick them. I will make this interesting. I will judge a poem by its title. “Advice to Writers.” Well, I could probably use some of that. “Introduction to Poetry.” I read it in high school. Should I read it again? Perhaps. I’ll come back to it. “Questions About Angels.” I do have some questions about them that I would like answered, but in all honesty, I do not believe a poem will answer them. “Forgetfulness.” Certainly I do know all about that. “The Man in the Moon.” My childhood could come flooding back, so I will read it at nighttime. “Sunday Morning with the Sensational Nightingales.” This one sounds quite specific and slightly epic. “Budapest.” I would like to go there since I have never been to Hungary. I am going to read that one. Turn to page 69.

            “My pen moves along the page.” This does not sound like it is about a foreign city, but I continue onto the next line. “Like the snout of a strange animal.” I try and visualize this until I realize that is silly. Where is a pen? I will make this real. It reminds me of a puppet, probably because it is one of about three shadow puppets I know how to make. I could have a puppet show right now, but I should be productive and that would be a little weird. Continuing it says, “Shaped like a human arm.” Is that not a brilliant comparison? Similar to some that we read during a Thursday class. “And dressed in the sleeve of a loose green sweater.” Oh, mine is naked then. I am seriously considering getting up to be a long-sleeve shirt on just so my strange animal can be clothed. Having decided that even considering that is a little ridiculous and it is completely unnecessary for this exercise, I continue onto stanza number two with sustained hopes about the poem.

            Unknowingly, my eyes are about to be opened to the sheer obviousness of the next line, “I watch it sniffling the paper ceaselessly.” Why had I never thought of writing in that way before reading this line? That is exactly what it looks like. It is a little silly but true. I might not ever think of writing in the same way again. “Intent as any forager that has nothing/ on its mind but the grubs and insects.” This comparison is a little deeper than the “shaped like a human arm” line, more thought provoking. I believe that if I were an animal finding food is what I would focus on. I could not go to the store and buy it, and even if I did have items available, I certainly could not cook anything. I would have to take things as they came, resulting in a much simpler yet less luxurious life. “That will allow it to live another day.” My life would be less stressful if I only focused on what was necessary for me to live until tomorrow. I would definitely have fewer worries. Much of my anxiety would be lifted.

            “It wants only to be here tomorrow.” That is an easy request, not nearly as complicated as most of mine end up being. It undoubtedly is less needy that I am. “Dressed perhaps in the sleeve of a plaid shirt.” There is some humor to add to a topic I am surely going into too deep. I think I should wear plaid tomorrow in honor of my poetic revelation. “Nose pressed against the page,/ writing a few more dutiful lines.” Now I can relate to this line, with a little bit more technology. I am here, face close to the screen, fingers on the keys, one stanza away from the end, mere lines away from finishing. No longer necessarily writing because I feel inspired, but I am left with some motive of completing the assignment.

            Respond to the last stanza and then I am done. “While I gaze out the window and imagine Budapest/ or some other city where I have never been.” As it comes to find out, like me, Billy Collins has never been to Budapest either, well at least when he wrote this sometime before 1995. I had completely forgotten the title of the poem and why I had decided to read this one until reading the last two lines. I really would like to go to Hungary sometime. Speaking of, well more like writing of, it is lunchtime.