When did you last turn the pages
of a book of poems as if it were a novel?
and how could a Poet Laureate ‘rejoice’-
as they say in flowery poetic language
in the name of Billy?
and it’s not so much reading
as being with: as if you’re in the same
room with him: he’s over there in the recliner,
self-contained but friendly; he may
say nothing; or make an inconsequent remark;
or launch into a fantasy; or say
something unpretentiously profound..
it doesn’t matter now. You’re in the same room
with him, just being.. he’s not making a poem
like you hold a glass up to the light
and polish it; he’s not even selling ‘being’
like some New Age guru; he’s not asking
anything of you.
And thousands who view poetry with suspicion
sigh with relief; take up his latest book
and glance at him there across the room
with a half-smile that somehow reflects his
just being Billy Collins. No, not even that;
just being.
Michael Shepherd
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/reading-the-poems-of-billy-collins/
