Poet Jane Hirshfield said "... the feeling I have about poem-writing (is) that it is always an exploration, of discovering something I didn't already know.  Who I am shifts from moment to moment, year to year.  What I can perceive does as well.  A new poem peers into mystery, into whatever lies just beyond the edge of knowable ground."

I bring a different poem to the writing classes each week, not only to inspire but to introduce new poets to the group members.

Mailbox by Erica Funkhouser

Out here lives a man
who carries his box
as black as a mink
to its cedar post
every morning
and ties it in place
with cotton sashcord—
loop loop loop. If you
don’t get out until
later in the day,
you can still see him,
only then he’ll be
unwrapping the cord
and balling it up
like an Ace bandage.
He’ll llift his mailbox
off its four-by-four
and tuck it under
his left arm without
checking for letters
and carry it in
to his mudroom, to
the kitchen table,
to an easy chair,
or all the way in to his bed. I don’t
know where he stops, but
somewhere in there he’ll
snap open the door
like the rest of us
run his hand back
and forward, back and
forward on the cool
black ridges of steel,
feeling for the edge
of luck, the lick of
comfort. He’s got his
own names, I’m sure, for
what should be coming
to him any day.

~ from Pursuit (A Mariner Book, Houghton Mifflin Co, 2004)

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