The truth of poetry is not the truth of history.
– Philip Levine, United States Poet Laureate
We’ve a new poet laureate.
We had an old poet laureate.
Digest it quickly,
Move on.
No hippy, liberal elitist.
No ivory tower academic.
He’s from Detroit.
He worked the line.
He’s gotten his hands dirty.
Some of it rubbed off on his soul.
America has a poet.
This feels right.
At it’s best,
America strives to be poetry.
At our worst,
We clunk along like prose,
In a technical manual,
From when we needed stereo instructions.
I met a Poet Laureate once.
He shook my hand.
He signed my book.
Later, before sleep,
his words filled me with the capital “T”
Truth
Only poets can tell.
If we wanted School Improvement Plans
That told us where we’re going,
That reminded us where we’ve been,
That showed us the best and worst
Of who we are and what we could do,
Every budget would include
… a Poet Laureate.